


The daughter of Mycroft Holmes

by charlottefrey, Jalizar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Smut, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottefrey/pseuds/charlottefrey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jalizar/pseuds/Jalizar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, what if Mycroft has a daughter?<br/>What if this daughter suddenly shows up?</p>
<p>Something, that showed up, while I was on the plane to canada. And I had to write it ;D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The beginnig

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, if there are mistakes in it, I'm no native speaker, so I can do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jalizar, my lovely co-author corrected the last mistakes ;D

Mycroft Holmes raised his head. His brother was standing across the room in front of the fireplace, his violin in his hands. He didn’t move, except for the bow on the strings.

   “Sherlock, stop acting like a spoiled child!” He put the smile on, the smile he always put on when his little brother refused to do something for him.

   “You always come in and tell me that you need my help. But this is too much! Far too much!” Sherlock turned around, anger in his face.

   “Little brother, I beg you, it’s nothing complicated.”

   “No.” Sherlock let the violin make a horrible tone.

   “Oh, what a lovely family atmosphere.” Dr John Watson looked up from his notebook. “I don’t get it, why do you two always fight?”

   “John, you’re supposed to help me with this!” The bow pointed at John’s nose. The man held up his hand und pushed it aside.

   “Take that out of my face!” The doctor’s voice was annoyed. Mycroft placed one hand on Dr Watson’s shoulder.

   “Can’t you tell my dear brother, that it is an honour to …” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence.

   “Stop involving me in your family troubles. I’m just living here. It gets on my nerves when you two can’t put your problems aside.” He stood up, took his computer, walked to the stairs, but stopped close to the door. “And it would be a great change if you would take this ‘case’.” The stairs creaked when he walked up. Sherlock sighed and looked at his older brother.

   “Do you take it?”

   “Yes,” the consulting detective nodded.

   “Perfect! I’ll send you a text when she’s boarding. Have fun and take care of her!” Happily he took his umbrella and vanished through the open door. On the stairs he passed by Mrs Hudson and smiled at her. She smiled back and entered the kitchen.

   “Sherlock, what have you done to my dear fish? They are swimming in circles or upside down...” Her face showed calm anger. Sherlock turned away from the window.

   “I just tried something. And it worked!”

   “Oh, Sherlock! Stop those experiments. Not with my fish!”

   “Should I have tried it with John? Or my dear brother?”

   “No experiments at all!” Mrs Hudson looked upset.

   “What’s it about me?” John entered the kitchen with his jacket on.

   “Nothing. Where are you going?”

   “Harry sent me an email that she needs my help. I’ll be back in half an hour with fresh food and some take away.”

   “Japanese!” Sherlock dashed out of the room into his bedroom.

 

Sherlock walked back and forth at Heathrow Airport with his coat billowing behind him.

   “Stop that, it’s annoying!” John rocked on his heels while he was looking around.

   “Why? Why did I take it? I don’t know why.” Sherlock`s murmurs were a little bit insane. Dr Watson grabbed his arm and pulled him close to himself.

   “People are watching us already and I think it’s time to calm down. She’ll be here in ten minutes and probably don’t want her uncle, whom she has never seen before, act like a crazy science professor.” He stopped and looked up from his feet.

   “I look like a crazy science professor?”

   “Seems like.”

   “Well, that’s quite … typical.”

   “Typical for what?”

   “Typical for whom!” Angrily Sherlock looked at his assistant.

   “Okay, typical for whom?”

   “Sociopaths. Why? Because loads of my kind are a little bit crazy. For example they talk too much or too loud…”

   “Sherlock, stop this.” The slender man sighed and stood still. Arms folded behind his back, John looked around. Slowly Sherlock lowered his head and whispered:

   “The woman over there, she’s wearing new clothes, barely worn, but old jewellery, so she’s sentimental. Or it’s from her husband and he loves to see her with it. They are having problems. How can I tell? She can’t stand still and is afraid what he’d think about her shopping trip with her best friend…”

   “Sherlock.” John’s voice got this annoyed tone. Sherlock turned back to his previous position, glaring around the arrival hall.

   “Ah John,” Stamford walked slowly from the check-in over to the flatmates.

   “Stamford, nice to see you again. How ya doin’?”

   “Fine, quite fine. I’m going on a journey to Germany, meeting some colleagues over there. Going to be boring, but what can I do?” He laughed deep in his throat. “And you?”

   “Picking someone up. Niece,” John smiled.

   “Yours?”

   “Mine.” Sherlock leaned over and gave the fat man a distracted look.

   “How nice! Well, I have to go. My plane won’t wait for me. See ya!” Waving he went to the security check.

   “You can’t be a bit friendlier, can you? Just once. He’s the person who got us together.” Instead of answering Sherlock just shrugged. Finally the girl’s plane arrived, but that made Sherlock even more nervous.

   “She’s going to meet her uncle for the first time! And I didn’t even know she existed!” He raised his hand above his head. Silently John decided to ignore him and pulled the list with the information about the girl out of his pocket. Sherlock had had it in his hands all the way to the airport, that’s why it was crumpled. In Mycroft’s elegant handwriting were written all the important things:

 

Name: Samantha Hofmann

Age: 17

Hair: blond or red (she’s dying it)

-            born in Ireland (Sligo)

-            grew up in Germany (Nuremberg)

-            her mother is a teacher

-            very sportive (horse riding, climbing, running)

-            does speak fluently German, English, Russian and Japanese; a bit of French

-            doesn’t like to be called Samantha (call her Sam)

 

All information Mycroft gave them seemed to be useless. There was nothing about her character or her behaviour. Yesterday they had talked about her.

   “She possibly could be a very bitchy person. Or arrogant.”

   “Or like Mycroft,” Sherlock’s face had said that he’d probably kick her out if she’d behave like his brother.

   “Pray for the best.”

   “I don’t pray. Why should I?” Then he had dashed out of the living room.

   “Get a flatmate, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.” John had rested his head against the fabric of the sofa.

The electronic door slid aside and a group of old women came out, talking way too loud. All were dressed in the same pale colours and had curly, short hair.

   “Stereotypes. I hate stereotypes.” Sherlock picked up his old path, wandering around John. He just rolled his eyes and looked at his watch.

   “Relax, she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

   “I should have refused. It can only go wrong.”

   “So far nothing went wrong.”

   “Well, not completely.” John opened his mouth and closed it again.

   “Stop that, you’re looking even more stupid than you are.” The door slid aside again and a young girl with long, bright red hair pushed a cart in front of her, on which two big cases were placed. Both were bright green and did totally not match her dark blue rucksack. She wore a leather jacket over a bright red cashmere pullover, dark, bleached trousers and biker boots. With one finger she pushed her simple dark glasses up her nose and brushed her fringe out of her eyes.

   “I suppose this is her?” John started to move towards the girl. Sherlock followed after a few steps.

   “Uncle Sherlock?” the girl asked in perfect English with a slight British accent.

   “I’m Sherlock Holmes and this is my flatmate Dr John Watson.” Her green-brown eyes focused on John, then slid back to Sherlock.

   “So you’re gay? Perfect!” She pushed her cart forward.

   “Wait, no. You got it all wrong. We aren’t gay, we’re just flatmates!” John walked quickly to follow her fast steps. Suddenly she stopped, her face saying ‘Seriously?’.

   “And you think I believe ya? I got eyes in my head, not tomatoes!” Her phone rang.

   “Yes Dad?”

  _“Is Sherlock there to pick you up?”_

“Yeah, he’s here. With John.”

   _“Thought so. How was your flight?”_

“Was okay, but I nearly threw up.”

   _“I told you not to fly in Economy Class. You’ve got the money.”_

    “Business Class is far too expensive when you’re just flying from Frankfurt to London. I’m saving my money.”

   _“To buy yourself one of those hell machines!”_

   “Well, it’s my decision what I do with my money! Stop interfering with my live!” She ended the call, but didn’t stop looking at the phone. The green cache was full of scratches, the phone was old.

   “Can I have your phone?”

   “Can I have your brain?” She looked a bit angry into Sherlock’s face.

    “Well... no.”

   “Then you know my answer. My phone and my computer are holy! Where’s your car?”

   “Hrm. Well, we don`t have one. We’re doing everything with a cab.”

   “That’s wasted money!” She turned her back at the two men and left the arrival terminal.

   “That’s going to be interesting.”

    “I suppose,” John sighed and followed Sherlock and Samantha.

 

Mrs Hudson greeted the new inhabitant of 221B Baker Street warmly.

   “How was the flight, honey?”

   “Fine, thanks. I was flying in Economy class, so the food wasn’t the best.”

   “But your father is Mycroft Holmes, isn’t he? He could have arranged something.”

   “He wanted to, but I can look after myself quite well. I don’t always need somebody to look after me. Especially not my father.”

   “So you don’t really like him?”

   “Do you know him? You do. Don’t know how to put it… uhm. He’s… he’s very overprotective. I can’t stand people who think just because I’m a girl I need somebody to protect me. Or I can’t do anything without help.” Her eyes darted over to the stairway. Mrs Hudson smiled and went to her door.

   “I’ll get you some bed stuff and you can sleep in the small chamber next to Sherlock’s room.” With not very much enthusiasm Sherlock picked up one of the cases and carried it upstairs.

   “Is he always like this?”

   “He can be even worse.” Samantha nodded and followed her uncle into the living room.

 

The next morning Sherlock and John were woken up by some annoying clatter. John went downstairs, wearing a bathrobe, followed by Sherlock in his satin one. In front of the kitchen door they stopped and looked at each other. They heard voices, speaking German. With a firm push Sherlock opened the door and went in. Two guys were sitting at the table which still held all of Sherlock’s experiments. In their hands they held plates with omelettes. Samantha was standing at the stove and was making another omelette. She turned around when she heard the both men enter.

   “I’m sorry, did we wake you up?”

   “Seems like. Who the bloody hell are they?”

   “Friends. Matze and Michael, twins, but Matze has more muscles.” She had a strange smile on her face. Michael turned to her.

   “Schwul?” _Gay?_

   “So was von!” _Of course!_

   “Und bei solchen Leuten wohnst du jetzt?” _And with such people you’re living together now?_

“Ich seh’ dein Problem nicht!” _I can’t see your problem!_

   “Can you please stop talking German?” Sherlock looked pissed.

   “And tell us why they are here.”

   “Okay! If you insist. They brought my bike and then they were exhausted, so I made some omelettes. I bought the eggs myself, after one look into the fridge.” A shiver of disgust ran through her.

   “How can one be exhausted from bringing a bike?”

   “Look out of the window.” With a fork she pointed into the living room. Sherlock stood behind John when they looked down. A shiny green YAHAMA stood down at the road, a touring machine.

   “I waited so long till I got this.” A goofy smile crossed Samantha’s lips. Then she suddenly turned around and kicked the two guys out.

   “Do you want some?” Her slender finger pointed to the box of eggs.

   “Yes, please.”

   “Spicy?”

   “No thanks.” Samantha nodded, picked one egg up and with practised movement she cracked it open.

   “Trained long?” Sherlock asked. John chuckled.

   “Warning, he’s deducing you, Samantha.” Her eyes raised from her cooking.

   “Don’t call me Samantha!” Her face was petrified and the look in her eyes said: “If you do that again you’ll be a dead man.” Then she turned away and handed a plate with an omelette to John.

   “Okay, Sam. Can you tell me why the bike is standing in front of our door?”

   “It’s my bike and I need it. So I asked the boys to bring it to me. I don’t wanna waste money on cabs or the subway. A car takes too much space and a motorbike is quite good for big cities like London.” She took the pan and put it into the dishwasher.

   “Well, as long as you don’t block the door, it’ll be fine.” Sam took some keys from the table.

   “Aye! One thing, before I leave: Please, bloody hell get the human body parts out of the fridge. It’s not very… appetizing.” They heard her steps moving down the stairs. Sherlock looked a bit hurt.

 

Some time later Sherlock`s mobile rang. He looked at his watch.

   “Lestrade, it’s quite a bad timing, we’re at dinner.”

   _“You’re eating? With whom?”_ Lestrade seemed to laugh.

   “Stop making fun of me. And yes, I eat. Together with John and my niece.”

   _“You’ve got a niece? So Mycroft isn’t that type of a man.”_ Now the inspector laughed for real.

   “Yes, and she cooked for me and John. But about the case, we’ll be there in 15 minutes.” Sherlock put his phone back down.

   “Der Esel nennt sich immer selbst zuerst” (word-by-word-translation: “The donkey always mentions himself first” = The stupid puts his name first) Sam muttered and smiled strangely.

   “Are you making fun of me?”

   “Where did you get THAT idea from?” She turned her back at him and John suddenly started coughing. Without another word Sherlock vanished into his room.

   “I’ll never get into this.”

   “Into what?” John pinned some chicken curry onto his fork.

   “Him, doing all …” Searching for a word, Sam waved her hands through the air. “… well, all this creepy stuff. Like solving cases. Or doing experiments in the kitchen.” She sighed and looked back to her plate. Five minutes later Sherlock rushed back into the kitchen, his coat already on and the scarf around his neck.

   “What are you still doing here? Come on!”

   “We’re human, we have to eat once in a while. Unlike you!” Sam pointed her knife at the slender man.

   “Lestrade won’t wait the whole day!” Sherlock dashed down the stairs. John stood up, took his jacket and gave Sam a last smile.

   “Thank you for dinner.”

   “Text me where you’re going! I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Her loud voice followed John till the door, then he stood outside and looked at Sherlock, who was in the middle of an argument with the cab driver.

   “Stop you two, we’re in a hurry!” With a diplomatic smile John pushed Sherlock into the car and the driver took off.

   “Address for Sam?”

   “Give me your phone.” As fast as ever Sherlock’s fingers ran over the screen. When they got out of the cab at the crime scene they heard a motor coming fast towards the old factory. The screaming green bike drove around the corner, winding around the cars and bystanders. The helmet was silver, with some Japanese signs on it. She pushed the visor up and pulled her glasses off. Her red hair was in a braid, and she pulled out the hair tie and shook her head.

   “Who the hell is this woman?” Anderson leaned over, his eyes locked on Sam.

   “My niece. Keep your hands off her!” Sherlock looked even more mad than usual at his most hatred person. “You’ve got Sergeant Donovan!” Sam came over, the helmet was left in the back case of her bike. She was wearing a tight leather jacket with shoulder pads which made her look even more muscular than she actually was.

   “Well, can we go in?” The smile on her face was real and she seemed to be interested.

   “Then there are three strangers on the scene.” Lestrade sighed exhaustedly.

   “You must be Inspector Lestrade, nice to meet you. I’m from the British Government. You probably know my father, Mycroft Holmes.” She shook his hand.

   “Yeah...” He was unsure what to do next. “These are Sergeant Donovan and Anderson.” She gave both a short nod and passed by them into the building.

   “You’re fast,” Sherlock admitted.

   “It’s not me, it’s the bike. I’d have been here earlier, but I had to do something first.”

   “Clean the kitchen?” John lengthened his steps to stay close to them.

   “No, because if I would have done it, you wouldn’t have a job to do at home.” John snorted, but Sherlock chuckled.

   “She is learning very fast.”

   “Sherlock!!”

   “Relax, Doctor, I took care of the dishes, trust me.” Sam laid one of her slender hands on John’s forearm. He recognised the nail polish on her nails. Each of them was black, with different Japanese characters.

   “You know Japanese?” The surprised tone in his voice seemed to surprise Sam.

   “Hai!” _Yes._

   “How?”

   “Well, about three years ago there was a Japanese exchange student in our class, her name was Maho. We’re still in contact. I’ve been in Japan together with a friend to see her at the cherry blossom festival. We followed the sakura zensen, it’s the wandering of the front of cherry blossoms northwards. Usually it starts in Okinawa, the home island of Maho, and then continues upwards over Tokyo till Hokkaido. It’s very beautiful and they are all celebrating in a very amazing way.” While she talked, her face lit up like a candle, in the happiness of her memory.

   “I’ve never heard about this.”

   “A lot of people don’t know, because it’s in Japan, on the other side of the earth. But I’m a very big fan of Japan, so I know a lot about it.” Lestrade suddenly stopped at a door and Anderson ran into Sam.

   “Sorry… very sorry!” But Sam pushed him against the wall. Her face was petrified.

   “If you touch me again, you’ll lose the hand you’ve touched me with.” Her voice was cold as ice, without any emotion, just like her eyes were darker than usual. When she released him he slid down the wall in shock. Donovan gave him a disgusted look.

   “Idiot!” Then she followed Lestrade. Sherlock and John looked at Sam in a mixture of shock, surprise and pride.

   “What? I don’t want to be touched by a paedophile like this. Seriously, I’m not dumb. I could feel his eyes all over my body.” She gave Anderson’s leg a lazy kick. The strong smell of blood hit them when they entered the room.

   “Ew, he looks a bit….smashed.”

   “Very clever and funny comment, can you please shut up?” Sherlock’s voice was dry as ever and his eyes jumped over the corpse.

   “He fell, definitely, but after his death, about 20 minutes ago I guess. He got stabbed twelve, no thirteen times into shoulders, corpus and arms. He is one meter and sixty high, worked in a coffee shop, judging by his clothes and the pinafore. He is between 18 and 20, probably a student of a university.”

   “Well, that was fast.” Sam looked up, which made her voice sound a bit strange. Suddenly bullets came from a corner of the hall.

   “Down, everybody!” Lestrade’s shouts echoed up the room. Sam hid behind a pillar and looked completely relaxed. Her fingers grabbed a wooden stick and she raised it.

   “What the bloody hell are…” Sherlock’s finger stopped John from finishing his sentence.

   “She has a reason for being here.” The gunman stepped forward, the pistol still in his hands.

   “Mister Sherlock Holmes, come here. Your friends won’t be harmed. If you don’t, I’ll kill you all!” He had a horrible German accent and waved his gun back and forth.

   “Stay where you are, I’ll handle this!” Sam’s whisper wasn’t easy to hear, but she was gone before Sherlock could do anything. Without making a noise she crawled behind the shooter and raised the stick. It hit him in the back and he stumbled two steps forward and nearly fell onto the ground.

   “Lass die Waffe fallen!” _“Drop the weapon!”_ She held the wood over her head.

   “Nie im Leben, Schlampe!” _“Never, bitch!”_ He laughed, till the stick hit his left shoulder and the laughing turned into screaming.

   “Bist du taub? FALLEN LASSEN!” _“Are you deaf? DROP IT!”_ In panic the man dropped the weapon and Sam kicked it away.

   “Auf die Knie!” _“Kneel!”_ Slowly he fell onto his knees, arms crossed over his head. The wooden stick clattered onto the floor and Sam turned around. She opened her mouth to say something, but the man tackled her and they hit the ground. His bare, brute hands strangled the young woman with her scarf. Uselessly her fingers ran over his face. Sherlock jumped on his feet, but Lestrade grabbed him, looking into his eyes.

   “He wants you, so you stay exactly here. We’ll handle this. John, protect him!” The army doctor nodded and took out his gun. Lestrade nodded to Sergeant Donovan and together they marched forward. But they could only make a few steps forward before the man hissed.

   “Stay where you are!” Both froze and Lestrade reached for his weapon, but the fingers tightened around Sam’s throat. She made a strange sound and suddenly tugged her fingernails across his face. She raised her feet from the floor and kicked him in the stomach. He buckled and would have fallen on top of her, but she rolled away. Her breath was flat and fast. John jumped up and ran over to her.

   “It’s alright John, I’m used to it.” She coughed and got into a sitting position. Sherlock came over till Sam raised her hand. “Stay there, please, if you don’t want to be killed.” She got up and went over to the man on the floor, held down by Sergeant Donovan.

   “Who the hell are you?” Her gun pointed at his head.

   “You’d like to know?”

   “Stop playing games and tell us!” Sam kneeled next to him, pulling a Marakow out of the back of her trousers. When the man saw the weapon he petrified.

   “Johannes Bayer.”

   “Exactly. Where are you from?” Sam’s voice was as sweet as honey, with a brute tone underneath.

   “Stuttgart.”

   “Good. Who sent you?”

   “I don’t know. He was one of the anonymous ones.” He started to sweat and his eyes roamed about the room.

   “Who knew about it?”

   “Me and a friend of mine.” His breath became faster.

   “Why did the boy have to die?”

   “He read the papers with the instructions.”

   “Okay, where are these papers now?”

   “With my friend.”

   “Perfect, do you have copies?”

   “No.”

   “It’s getting better and better! Why did you want to kill Sherlock Holmes?”

   “He’s the reason for somebody’s death!” Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply.

   “We’re going to take him with us.” The inspector pulled some handcuffs out of his pocket.

   “Inform my father about this, he knows what to do!” When she stood up again her ankles cracked. Sherlock finally stood next to John, both looking like being in shock and followed Johannes Bayer while he was taken outside.

   “What the bloody hell just happened?” John’s eyes were locked on Sam. She was rubbing her neck and rolled her head around.

   “Well… I’m not just here to annoy the two of you, I’m something like the last defence line for Sherlock. Or his second personal bodyguard.”

   “Wait a minute, didn’t you grow up in Germany, far away from Mycroft?”

   “Yes, but my mother wasn’t a teacher, she was in the German Secret Service.”

   “Ah, that’s how they met.”

   “Yes… But in fact, I don’t care. My mother sent me to a military school in Russia, the reason why I got the Marakow and can speak more or less fluently Russian. After that I was sent into a European exchange of young … spies. And then my father told me that my unknown uncle is probably getting killed by someone. So here I am!” She brushed her long red hair out of her face.

   “But why you?”

   “Probably because she is my niece. More because she is a very talented assassin and spy. She was trained in Russia, so she got hard training, had to do hard work every day and has very good weapon skills. After all she is the daughter of the “British Government” and a German Secret Service agent.” Sherlock’s deducing skills made Sam laugh.

   “You forgot one thing. If I want to protect someone I do it with my life. I’d never let you die if I could hinder it. I’m loyal.”

   “If I told you to kill John, would you kill him?”

   “Why should I? He is even more loyal than I am. Especially to you. I only protect you, I’m not your personal assassin.” She gave them a last glance and then left them in the room with the corpse.

   “Well, she is good. Even without a gun.”

   “She is 17 and has something bitter about her.”

   “Probably because somebody she loved had died?”

   “Not probably,” Sherlock looked at John and gave him a smile.

 

John pushed open the door.

   “Sam, dinner is ready… oh.” Sam stood in the middle of the room, unpacking a cardboard box.

   “Oh, this is just ammunition.” She got up and brushed some styrofoam off her trousers. John’s eyes fell upon the pictures on the shelf. On most of them there were Sam and at least one of a group of three girls.

   “Your friends from the academy?”

   “Yes, all a bit strange, but very friendly.” She smiled at the memory. Then John noticed another picture of Sam and a small, brown haired girl in front of a Canadian shopping mall. The girl was about one and a half heads smaller than Sam, but seemed to be okay with that. Sam stood a bit behind her, slender as ever, with a bright smile on her face. The small girl was surrounded by loads of bags from different shops. She laughed and raised her arms. But the frame was black, not like the others which had bright colours.

   “Who is this?” Sam’s jaw muscles clenched and she fisted both of her hands.

   “Lini.” Her voice sounded dead and lifeless.

   “Your best friend, I suppose.”

   “Yes.” She lowered her head and looked at her tiptoes. Tears shone in her eyes.

   “She died, didn’t she?” The question was out before John realised what it would probably do to Sam. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and he started to sob, too.

   “Yes, I … wasn’t able … to rescue her… she died… because of my… stupidity.” She lost control over her legs, crumbling down onto the floor. John kneeled beside her and hugged her.

   “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry. Scchscchscch.” Her fingers clamped into his shirt and her whole body shook. But no sound escaped her lips, except for breathing.

   “Self-control, even now.” Sherlock’s voice cut through the silence like a knife through butter. John raised his head, imploration in his eyes. _Don’t say anything wrong please, only this time!_ So Sherlock also kneeled and rested one of his hands on Sam’s shoulder.

   “We know how you feel. We all lost a beloved one.” Out of nothing he hugged her tightly.

 

Mycroft stared at his daughter.

   “What exactly has he done?”

   “He. Hugged. Me!” Mycroft leaned back and breathed:

   “For god’s sake.” Sam was totally confused asking:

   “What exactly is so strange about that?” Mycroft folded his hands and looked straight into Sam’s dark green eyes.

   “He doesn’t like touching people. He hates physical contact. Just some special persons like John and me sometimes get a handshake or something like this. I’ve never heard something about him hugging complete strangers. Except mommy sometimes gets a short hug, that’s all. Or kisses for Mrs Hudson.” He sighed and stood up.

   “But dad, he really hugged me!”

   “I don’t know, ask John.”

   “Would I be sitting in the fucking Buckingham Palace if I had another choice?”

   “Don’t take such words in your mouth!”

   “Don’t try to act like a father, fucking idiot!”

   “Watch your language, young lady. I’ve always paid for you and your mother!”

   “We’d be fine without it.” She avoided looking into his eyes.

   “I can stop it if you want.” The warning in his voice was clearly hearable.

   “Ha, you think you can blackmail me? I know too much about your business for you to cut the money flow. I know more than you think, daddy!” She grabbed her jacket and was about to leave when Mycroft rested one hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

   “Would your mother be fine, without my money?” She shook his hand off and stared at his face.

   “She loves you, always did. And you helped us, like a perfect father. But you also left us. My mother quit her job, a well paid one, only to care for me. Where have you been while she was working her ass off? In goddamn Great Britain! You never showed up, except for my birthdays or when I graduated in Russia. You are not my father. I had another: My granddad. He looked after me, taught me and is still worried about me. You sit in your safe chair, get everything you want, but mother and I had to work hard for our life. Don’t tell me that you are the better one of us!”

   “You kill people on command.”

   “You command people to kill your enemies, I at least look my enemy into his eyes when I kill him!”

   “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

   “I have seen more corpses than Sherlock!”

   “Well after what happened to your little friend…” Sam threw her father through the room.

   “Don’t mention her. She is my weak spot!”

   “I know.” He picked himself up.

   “You don’t have anyone to love and no one loves you!” Her eyes were as cold as ice and darker than usual. The door creaked when she left the room. Mycroft fell exhausted into his seat, covering his face with his hands. His small sobs sounded loud in the empty room.

 

Her eyes were fixed on one spot outside the window, but she didn’t seem to recognize anything. As long as John looked at her, she didn’t move or say something. If she wouldn’t have blinked or breathed once in a while, she could have been dead. For two hours she sat there already, right after she had come home from talking to Mycroft. He had called in about ten times, had asked what she was doing at the moment. John tried everything, but she didn’t reply even once. Whatever had happened, she didn’t want to talk about it. Mycroft murmured something about a bad argument and fell silent after John had asked what they had fought about.

   “Sam, you have to eat, please, do it for me. Just a little bit. Mrs Hudson brought some chocolate cake upstairs, a fine one. It does taste very good!” She neither moved, nor did she seem to realize him. Sherlock came home after a long stroll through the city. In the corridor John took his sleeve.

   “She is worse than you are sometimes. She doesn’t eat, speak or move. I’ve tried a lot of things, not even chocolate cake works. Mycroft is making me crazy, he’s calling every 15 minutes. I should get myself some headphones like an estate agent.”

   “No John, those things would look horrible and are totally useless!” Sherlock dashed into the living room. He looked at Sam.

   “Samantha, move your ass!” His dark voice rumbled in the small room, but Sam sat still.

   “See, even this is nonsense to her.” John let out a deep sigh and entered the kitchen. Sherlock instead went for his violin. A soft tone filled the room and then he began to play. The slow music filled the room with calmness. Slowly Sam turned her head, a small, microscopic smile appeared on her features. After Sherlock finished playing she stood up. Regaining her old strength she looked at Sherlock.

   “Moonlight, Piano sonata No.14, Ludwig van Beethoven.”

   “To the moonchild.” He gave her a tender look. “Stop being upset about Mycroft. He simply is like this. I can help you with your father.” She shook her head.

   “It’s not what you’re thinking. He was even more cruel than usual. He threatened to stop sending money to me and my mother.”

   “I thought she is an agent. She is earning a lot of money, isn’t she?”

   “Not anymore. After she gave birth to me, her health was weak, she wasn’t able to get her old position back. So she now earns enough money to keep everything in balance, but she’s still suffering from her health. I don’t get enough money, even though I’m in a good position, but most of the money goes to the German Government.” She lowered her shoulders. Sherlock laid one hand on her arm.

   “We’ll find something.”

John peeked into the living room.

   “Dinner is ready, will you come?”

   “Damn it, I’m starving!”

   “For what?” John joked.

   “For justice!” Sam made a batman-like pose. All burst into laughter. They sat at the table, well, on the clean side of it.

   “Anyway, where did you get my nickname from?” Sam’s eyes were a little bit cold, but she looked also interested.

   “Well, you left your computer open and I took…”

   “Beeeep. Wrong, no one knows my password!”

   “I didn’t need to know your password. There was a little writing on the bottom of the screen, timeworn, but still recognizable. It said, _good luck, moonchild_. You once told me that your computer is holy. So it had to be from somebody you know very good, someone you trust.”

   “Exactly. It was a gift from my friends to my graduation. I always used the old one from my mother. So they collected money for this laptop. I love the moon, sometimes waste the whole night sitting on the rooftop, watching the moon. That’s why my mentor, who once pinched me, called me moonchild. Since this day, everyone who knows me better calls me moonchild.”

   “Your father doesn’t know about this, does he?”

   “No.” The simple answer said all. Her disgust against her own father was strange.

   “Do you even refer to him as a father?” She shook her head.

   “But I’m happy to have such an awesome uncle!” She grinned and stood up.

   “Young lady, where are you going?” John said strictly.

   “Meeting some friends.” The door clapped.

   “Off she goes.” The doctor turned back to Sherlock, still happy about the compliment.


	2. Great Great Britain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smexing ahead and some more deaths
> 
> Corrected by Jalizar ;D

Lestrade sat on his table, his boss in front of him.

   “Why the hell did Anderson get attacked?”

   “He harassed Mycroft Holmes daughter.”

   “Mycroft Holmes got a daughter?”

   “Yes, she’s about the age of 16 or 17. She is helping her uncle Sherlock Holmes and his colleague Doctor John Watson.”

   “Three strangers entered the crime scene! And you did nothing about it!”

   “What should I have done? She is the daughter of fucking Mycroft Holmes! And she is part of a European institution for spies and special agents.”

   “You remember what happened three years ago? The case about Sherlock and the little kids?”

   “Of course! But the case is finished. It was something this damn Moriarty made up. He manipulated the kids and that’s why the girl started to scream.”

   “But I still don’t trust him!”

   “His brother is the great Mycroft Holmes and he ensured that his younger brother is innocent! So where’s the problem?” His boss stared at him.

   “So you trust the Holmes brothers?”

   “They both help us.”

   “Damn it! You go to Mycroft Holmes and tell him to control his damn daughter! I won’t allow her on crime scenes once again!” The door slammed when he left.

   “Ugh, sometimes I hate my job!” Lestrade stood up, took his jacket and left for Mycroft’s villa.

The darkened room the secretary brought him in was awfully hot, so he had to take his jacket off, sat into a chair and waited. And waited. And waited some more. After half an hour he stood up and looked for the secretary. He didn’t find her, but he found something much more interesting. Someone, to be exact. Mycroft stood in his room, looking at a huge wardrobe, wearing only suit trousers and an undershirt.

   “Mycroft, what the hell are you doing?” Mycroft turned in shock and saw Greg standing in the door.

   “Why aren’t you downstairs?”

   “I don’t like waiting for half an hour for the fucking British Government!”

   “I’m sorry, you don’t have to yell at me!”

   “I have more than enough reasons to yell at you fool!” Mycroft looked hurt.

   “What do you mean?” He pulled a pale shirt out of the wardrobe and closed the doors.

   “When did you think you’d tell me? When she’s going to marry? Or not even then?”

   “You’re talking about Samantha.”

   “Yes, your 17 year old daughter!”

   “I intended to tell you on time.”

   “You call this ‘on time’?! We’re together since five years! In those damn five years you never saw the opportunity to tell me that you’ve got a daughter with a German spy?” Greg’s face was pale and tears glimmered in his eyes.

   “I personally know her for just three years. Before that I only helped them! I met her at her graduation! Do you think I didn’t want to tell you?”

   “I wanted to hear it from your own mouth! Sherlock told me!” Now the tears were streaming over his face. Mycroft rushed forward and embraced him. His fingers went through his hair, but he shivered. Greg sobbed and his whole body shook.

   “I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I didn’t want this to happen in such a cruel way. I love you and you know that. It was for your and Samantha’s safety. If anyone would have known about her identity, she would have been in danger. And you too. I would never have refused to tell you if you had asked about my past.” Greg teared himself away from Mycroft.

   “So it’s my fault? I didn’t ask so you never told me? Is it that what you’re trying to tell me?” Now his face reddened.

   “No, I was too careless. I should have told you from the beginning.” He cupped Greg’s face in his hands, pulled him closer and kissed his shivering lips. The inspector relaxed during the kiss.

   “Mycroft, we’ve done it only at my place. Now it’s time to do it in your bed!” With a strong grip he pulled Mycroft into the bedroom. The surprised Mycroft just let himself be dragged along. With less effort than usual, Greg threw his lover onto the satin sheets.

   “Pretty nice! We should have done it here earlier.” The inspector leaned in and kissed Mycroft’s smooth lips. His fingers toyed with the first button which Mycroft just had buttoned up.

   “If my secretary comes…” Mycroft tried to stop Greg.

   “…in? Well, she won’t, will she? This is your bloody bedroom. Even the British Government has his privacy!” Greg chuckled and nibbled his lover’s neck. The politician clutched his hands into Greg’s shirt. As fast as ever Mycroft lost both his shirts and was lying on the bed, his breath ragged.

   “Why don’t you take your time? We’ve got plenty of it.” Mycroft watched his beloved one undress.

   “I don’t care about how many time we have. I just want you, need you. And you once told me that you prefer it fast.” Greg grinned slyly and arousingly. When he sat down on the bed to undo his shoes and trousers Mycroft wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him into a tight hug.

   “So why are you wasting time when you can take me here and now?”

   “So you prefer sex with trousers, shoes and socks still on?” Greg poked one finger into Mycroft’s nose and pulled away. After he finished undressing, his fingers hovered over Mycroft’s belt buckle. His lover growled.

   “Stop this and fuck me!”

   “Always this demanding tone. You should be a little more obedient to me!”

   “Oh please, my dear, dear Gregory, take me from behind, till …” Greg’s chuckle interrupted the unemotional speech.

   “Honey, you should work on your acting skills.”

   “For what reason? To satisfy you?”

   “No, to satisfy me you need way more.”

   “What?”

   “Your nice ass, a hard cock and loads of lube!” Greg ripped the belt from the trousers and pulled it down. Against the fabric of Mycroft’s underpants his erection was clearly visible.

   “You like me criticizing you, don’t you?” His fingertips ghosted over Mycroft’s trapped cock. The man below him whimpered. Greg grinned even more and pulled the underpants down awfully slowly. When they were removed completely, Greg looked at his lover.

   “Greg, please!” Mycroft reached up and toyed with his hair, pushing it over his forehead. His fingers slid over to his ear, then to his neck and pulled him down. When their lips met Greg gripped Mycroft’s cock and slowly began to stroke him. When he felt the touch, Mycroft grunted, but Greg swallowed it with his mouth. With shivering fingers Mycroft started to return this favour. Their kiss was getting passionately and hotter, their breath was getting faster and so were their hands. As usual, they came together, screaming the other one’s name in ecstasy. They parted, but still remained very close.

   “How… long?” Greg asked.

   “5 weeks.” Mycroft said with a sad smile.

   “Not my fault.” After that his lover looked hurt. “I didn’t mean your work isn’t important, but 5 bloody weeks? Bit too long for the both of us.”

   “I can’t do it when I’m in stress. And I am in stress when I have to push myself to meet up with you.” Mycroft’s cum-covered hand slid over the blanket before he laid it onto Greg’s face.

   “I know, but…” Greg took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

   “I love you too, you damn idiot.” Mycroft raised his head from the pillow and kissed him. Greg sat up, his lover on his lap, arms around his torso. Mycroft crossed his legs behind Greg’s back and embraced him with such a passion that Greg felt his heart beat fast against his own chest. He raised one hand and ran it through his lover’s messy hair. Everything felt so right, so perfect – except Mycroft’s daughter. She was a problem, or going to be one. With a sigh he let himself fall onto the bed.

   “What, already finished?” Mycroft licked his ear and Greg shuddered, his erection rose again and he hissed. Mycroft got off his lap, leaned over to the nightstand and pulled some lube out if it.

   “Always prepared!” Then he handed it over to Greg. Still lying on his back, he put some cool lube on his fingers and reached to Mycroft’s butt. The man on top leaned forward so that his lover would have easier access. When Mycroft was stretched enough, Greg slid slowly into him, stretching his hole further. Mycroft arched back and growled deep in his throat.

   “Move, Greg!” With small movements Greg pushed himself in and out, moaning. His lover’s fingers dug into his neck and he kissed him, wet and wild.

   “Faster, Greg!” The inspector laid Mycroft onto the satin sheets and began to fuck him roughly. Both men were sweating and their groans filled the room with neverending sound and echoes. Mycroft gripped the sheets hard and arched up his back. Greg closed his eyes with pleasure.

   “Ooooooooh. Greg, there, right there!” His cry cheered his lover to pound even faster into him, till both reached the edge at the same time. Their growls were unanimously.

 

Sam’s eyes flickered over the ceiling, without noticing anything. _What happened?_ Her head and her neck felt like they were smashed. Slowly she rolled over and looked at some shiny shoes.

   “Did the little spy wake up? That’s good.” The shoes moved. The man knelt next to her, a hand gripped her chin and raised her head like this. He had blond curls, a short beard covering his cheeks and jaw and light grey eyes.

   “Where am I?” Her voice cracked.

   “Sam, I’m so sorry about this.” The man leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. If her hands wouldn’t have been bound, she would have ruffled those curls.

   “I missed you so much.” She breathed against his mouth. His feature lit with a smile.

   “Me too.” He cut through the plastic strap around her wrists.

   “Where the hell have you been, Christian?” The older one looked ashamed.

   “I was in Canada again, so I wasn’t able to contact you. There was a rather hard order, so I was busy all the time.”

   “For fucking three years?” She slapped him hard on both cheeks.

   “Yes.” He looked into her eyes while he spoke.

   “And I should believe this? That you had nothing with another woman?”

   “Yeah, and what about you?” His eyes went cold.

   “I love you more than anything else!” He pulled her up, into his arms and hid his face in her long red hair.

   “I know. And you know I love you too.” She ruffled again through his hair.

   “Who was this guy I saw you with yesterday?”

   “The slender one? My uncle. I’m here to protect him, an order of my old man. You can imagine how happy I am to be in the same country like him.” She frowned and turned into the direction of a small noise.

   “Martha? Are you there?” A tiny, small woman emerged from the darkness. Her short red hair was in lots of spikes around her head. She grinned.

   “I didn’t intend to interrupt, but there is something you two should see.” Christian pulled Sam up from the cold floor and followed Martha. The observation room was full of displays and keyboards.

   “Smile, you’re on CCTV!” Martha giggled. She let herself fall into a big boss seat and pointed to one monitor. A slender woman climbed the roof with knives. On the next, a man with muscles like a baseball player knocked over some security guards at entrance three. Two girls fought against five other guards. An elastic man wound himself through a window.

   “Seems like we’ve got guests.”

   “Why are they entering the britHQ?”

   “Well, we got some pretty interesting stuff in here. Something everybody wants and nobody will get.”

   “You mean the little thing we got yesterday?” Christian leaned against the doorframe.

   “What?”

   “Details, information about another treat, somebody from Moriaty. His co-worker or companion. I have no idea who it is…” Martha swallowed hard when one of the girls ripped out somebody’s throat.

   “Give it to me.”

   “Why should I?!”

   “Because…” Sam took a deep breath. “…it is related with my orders from the British Government. I have to protect somebody, but this person is in Moriarty’s web. Not trapped, but in it and related with the death of Jim Moriarty. If you don’t give me that information, he’ll be dead. And I would lie next to him.”

   “Two persons are acceptable.”

   “Even the great Sherlock Holmes?” Sam purred into Martha’s ear. “And possibly also his elder brother Mycroft Holmes? And his companion John Hamish Watson? Don’t forget the best German spy in history and your last defence wall, ME!” Her voice was loud and still next to the woman’s ear. Christian reached out and pulled Sam back into his arms.

   “I’ll give it to you. But you have to protect us. And it!” Their eyes met.

   “Yes, of course.” Martha tapped some orders into one of the keyboards and a drawer opened out of nowhere.

   “Here it is.”

   “Thanks!” Sam beamed at the others. “Martha, let’s start the Labyrinth.” Martha’s eyes glittered in joy. It was her development and she had never used it before. The whole britHQ was beneath the surface. The three-levelled building above was completely empty. But the walls were able to move around, it was like a never-ending labyrinth. Christian and Sam left her in the control room.

   “Well, now we don’t have anything to do.”

   “Except somebody escapes.”

   “I hope that it won’t happen. I have seen enough blood for a lifetime.”

   “For god’s sake, you sound like an old man near his death!”

   “I’m happy that I’m still healthy and young. And I will never say something this stupid before I’m dying.” He laughed dark und husky. For a second she leaned against his chest. Then she hit him with her fist right above the heart.

   “Three years Chris! Three fucking years! Don’t think I’ll forgive you this!” She hit him once more, till he caught her wrist and pulled her close.

   “You will.” He kissed her.

   “I won’t.”

   “You will.” He kissed her again and let his tongue slide into her mouth.

   “Well, probably I will forgive you.” Her hands roamed over his back and arse.

   “That’s why I love you so much.” Suddenly Martha opened the door.

   “They are killing each other!” Her face was pale and the shock was written all over her body. A shaking finger pointed at the monitors. One of the girls, the elastic man and the climber layed dead on the floor, the remaining two fought with such a brutality that it even shocked Sam.

   “Heilige Scheiße, was geht?” _Holy shit, what is happening?_

   “That’s not natural anymore. It’s disgusting!” Christian shivered and turned away. Unable to tear her eyes away, Sam saw the baseball-man smash the girl’s head against the wall and her brain painted the wall red and grey. A sudden urge to vomit rose in Sam and she ran to the bathroom. When she came back Christian was away and Martha stared at one display.

   “There he is.” Chris, wearing his Kevlar vest and a gun, entered a room. His enemy moved faster than expected and pinned him against the wall.

   “Martha, open a window!”

   “Yes, Sam.” She walked out of the room, grabbed a VSS Vintorez (a Russian sniper rifle) and left for the window. Her heart kicked hard in her chest, but she remained calm. She knelt next to the hole in the wall and aimed. The man had Christian in a headlock, but it was easy to hit him in the right shoulder. Screaming loud he released his enemy and showed his chest. Another shot and he died.

   “Sam, you are amazing!”

   “Thanks, but you are a fool.”

   “I know, honey, I know.”


	3. The new master of the web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More deaths and some other strange things....

Chris stood there, watching the motorbike vanish.

   “Do you think she’ll manage it?”

   “Hopefully.” Martha hugged herself. “She managed even your loss.”

   “I got orders!”

   “Yes, but she thought you died. Just like everybody else did. She was nearly killing herself after this death of a loved one for the second time!”

   “I know and I’m ashamed.”

   “You should be!” Martha turned and went inside, leaving Christian standing alone on the stairs. His finger traced the necklace, a present from Sam for their second anniversary. Finally he followed Martha inside.

 

Putting the extra safe laptop in front of her, Sam pushed the USB-stick into the plug. The data loaded and loaded. Her fingers slid over the handle of the teapot John made for her. When she opened the file she found loads of pictures and one Microsoft office document. Carefully she deciphered the five pages then read them on screen. Her neck became stiff and her eyes burned, but it was too dangerous to stop now. Every now and then her breath caught in her throat, but she never stopped for long. After two hours of reading she studied the pictures one by one. She pulled the stick out and hung it on a leather ribbon around her neck, shut her laptop down and went to bed.

 

Sherlock ran through the alley, coat flapping behind. John already fell back, too weak to chase the murder for over five kilometres. Suddenly the man stopped. The darkness was like a duvet.

   “Why have you killed her?” The man asked and turned around. His eyes were red from sleepless nights and he drooled horribly.

   “She said you are an honourable man. But you aren’t, are you?” He turned his head to the side and blinked.

   “I am better than you, that’s pretty obvious.” answered Sherlock.

   “But you weren’t better than Moriarty, were you?” he snarled and jumped forward, his hands like claws. Trying to hide that this action startled him Sherlock stepped back and looked down on the man.

   “I am better than him!”

   “You killed him!” the murder whined loudly and scratched over his face. “You!” His finger pointed at Sherlock’s chest and he came closer again. “It`s your fault that our great leader died!” Suddenly a red point appeared on the man’s chest.

   “One step further and you`re dead as well!” Sam’s voice echoed through the alley. Her heavy steps came closer till the moonlight lit her red hair. The murder fell onto his rear and crawled back.

   “How did you know…” began Sherlock.

   “How does Mycroft always know where you are?”

   “You asked him to look for us?”

She frowned. “Not exactly, but yes, that was the basic idea.”

Lestrade jogged around the corner and stopped right in front of the three.

   “Where did you get this weapon and do you even have a license for it?”

   “Bloody hell, Lestrade, do your damn job or you have more to worry about than my weapons license!”

Sergeant Donovan, followed by some more policemen, came around the corner and finally took care of the man. Sherlock already wanted to jump into a cab when Sam managed to grip his arm.

   “Stop, Sherlock. Lestrade and I got something to talk about with you. NOW!”

   “There is nothing to talk about!” Sherlock ripped himself free, but Lestrade stepped into his way.

   “Get the hell away, Lestrade!” shouted Sherlock.

   “I won’t, because this is about your, John’s, Mrs Hudson’s and Molly’s life! And if you at least care a bit about that, you should listen to Sam. She got some information about our enemy. And it’s best to discuss them at a safe place.”

   “Why not at Baker Street?”

   “Remember the camera in your living room?” Sherlock rolled his eyes and followed them to a dark green car.

   “Wait!” John’s voice made them turn. “Can’t you wait just a few seconds?”

   “I’m sorry John, I forgot that you were together with Sherlock. But now you`re here, get into the car, we need to talk about something serious.” In shock, John nodded and sat next to Sherlock in the back of the car.

   “We’re now driving to a very special place, I don’t want any of you to talk about it, do you understand?” Sam’s voice had never sounded more serious.

   “This place is highly protected, that’s why you have to give me all your metal items and phones. NO exceptions.” Lestrade glared at Sherlock. Sam added:

   “Well, that’s the easy part. But we’ll show you something that isn’t made for your eyes. Most of it is too complex to understand, so we made it a bit easier. It’s important for you to know some details. After this, I won’t hear any resistance against mine or Lestrade’s orders, ok?”

   “So you’re showing us top-secret-stuff?”

   “Yes, kind of.”

   “And why?”

   “As I said it’s necessary for your own safety.” The car made a sharp turn and suddenly everything went dark. A computer voice said _Scanning, scanning, scanning._

   “What the hell?” John turned in panic.

   “Don’t move.” _Scanning finished, you can pass._ Sam accelerated and they slid through the darkness until the car stopped near a door.

   “Now the hard part starts.” Sam sighed and stepped out of the car.

   “Hey there!” a tall man called.

   “Hey Chris, this is my uncle, his boyfriend and Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard.”

   “I’m not his boyfriend!” John growled.

   “Do I look like I care?” Sam’s eyes were cool.

   “And I’m Chris, her boyfriend.” The man smiled, but Sam took his arm.

   “Three years, Chris, three years!”

   “Well that reminds me of something…” John glared over at Sherlock.

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

   “Don’t act like an innocent, we all know what John is referring to.” Lestrade pushed the two flatmates into an elevator and followed them. The feeling of being pushed further down made all a little bit dizzy. When the doors slid open again, a woman stood at the other side of the big room.

   “This is Martha, our technical assistant. She is the developer of…”

   “…the Labyrinth, the world’s first moving building.” Sherlock looked at her and smiled proudly.

   “Who told you so?” Martha glared at him suspiciously.

   “My brother was so proud on his government being able to create something like this that he told me. But I had to promise to tell no one about it, or that I knew.”

   “I never stop being surprised by you, Sherlock.” John pinched the bridge of his nose and looked even older. “Sometimes I imagine my life without you.”

   “What a boring life, no chases, no murders, no adventures...”

   “Especially no human body parts in the fridge, no deadly experiments, no violin playing in the middle of the night, no three nicotine patches, no gun shots, no….”

   “Stop it, we all know that living with Sherlock is not an easy life.” Sam pointed to a door. “Get in there please.” Martha vanished through another door and when they entered the room, a huge flatscreen was ready for the presentation. Everyone sat down, except Chris and Sam.

   “As I said, what I’m going to show you now is top secret and you’re not allowed to tell anyone about this.” Sam took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Moriarty’s web.” An image popped up behind her. “It’s still in action. The criminal you took down this evening is part of it. We have enough evidence for fifteen more people to be also part of it. The problem is that we can’t start looking for them, because the evidence includes some governmental stuff, high priority.” A picture of a man appeared. “Samuel Davids. The man who killed the old lady.” A woman. “Mira Davids, his younger sister. She kidnapped the boy.” Then a few pictures showing the same man. “Moran, no first name. He is the new head of the web. And he wants revenge for Moriarty.” Sam locked her eyes with Sherlock’s.

  “And there’s the reason why we’re here. The safety of Mr Holmes and Mr Watson.” Chris stepped next to Sam. “We know that the two of you are armed, but here we have a serious problem, dealing with several men and women, who are ready to sacrifice themselves any second, just to get their bloody revenge. Sam is your last wall of defence. But there are several other spies and agents checking up on you, including Mr Lestrade. I’ll be around sometimes, but I also have another order. Always carry your guns with you. You’ll get licenses to have them with you, in case somebody checks.” Chris nodded and left.

   “Greg, you are an agent, I never knew!” With a surprised look on his face, John leaned over, looking at the inspector.

   “Well, Sherlock hasn’t deduced that yet!”

   “There`s always something I do not get right...” grumbled Sherlock.

   “We have more important things to do than discuss Sherlock’s deducing skills. Get ready for leaving.”

   “Why?”

   “I already broke all the rules to let you in here, so it’ll be better if you’re leaving now before somebody notices that you’ve been here. Move!” She shoved them outside, into the elevator and back into the car.

 

Later that evening Mrs Hudson, John, Sherlock and Molly were sitting in the small flat, chatting, when Sam suddenly entered the room, her hair fuzzy and seeming to be hunted.

   “Did something happen?” Mrs Hudson asked friendly.

   “Something unexpected.” The girl looked out of the window. “It’ll be better if you all hide somewhere.”

   “Tell us what …” Molly wasn’t able to finish her question because Sam put one of her slender hands over her mouth and gave her a deep look into the eyes.

   “Explanation follows.” Then she pushed the two women into Sherlock’s room.

   “Why mine?” The consulting detective complained.

   “Shut up and call Lestrade!” Sam ran up the stairs into her room and threw things through the room. The front door shook when somebody knocked hard against the wood.

   “What are we supposed to do?” Completely confused John looked at the returning girl.

   “Arming yourself would be best.” She raised a finger and pointed to Sherlock. “I hope you know a little bit about shooting!”

   “John does.“ Sherlock grabbed the scull taking some ammunition out of it.

   “I know that John does. The question is, do you?” She raised a gun.

   “Where the hell did you get this one?” Sherlock stared at the black gun.

   “This is a MP-443 Grach. It’s the new weapon for the Russian Military. It`s easier to aim with it, but it`s a bit bigger than the Makarov. But I use both.”

   “You only have Russian weapons?” John asked when the door was knocked in.

   “No, also a Browning Hi Power and a Glock 17.” Men were already running up the stairs to the flat. “Sherlock, go into the living room, John, behind the doorpost!” Sam stood at the top of the stairs. The invaders stopped for a second, but then continued running upwards. The first got a shot into the shoulder, the second fell over his leg when a bullet dug itself into his flesh. The third had enough time to aim, but got hit in the hip. The fourth jumped over his companions and attacked Sam. Caught up in a hand to hand battle she lost her gun and the last one passed by her, but John emerged from the doorpost, rammed his gun into the man’s gut and then held the weapon against his head.

   “Don’t move”, he hissed. Sam was pinned against the wall, panting heavily. The man held her wrist over her head trying to get to her face. She kicked his knee, ripped her right hand free and slit his throat with a black knife. John stared at her. Blue lights were flickering through the window and Lestrade ran up the stairs.

   “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.

   “Where did you get the knife from?” Wiping clean named knife on the coat of her victim, she looked up to him.

   “It’s a pocket knife, I always have it with me.”

   “But how could you kill him so fast and easy?”

   “It’s not one of those army knives with a thick blade. It’s thin and extremely sharp.” Lestrade glanced over to her.

   “Good old Boeker knife.” She nodded and vanished into her room.

   “We have to go, now!” ordered Lestrade.

   “But…” A glare stopped the rest of the sentence and John stepped back.

   “Sam will get some clothes and some weapons. Trust her, she knows what she’s doing.” Lestrade waited long enough, till both men had put on their coats, but then he pushed them into a dark car.

   “Hello, brother dear.”

   “Mycroft!” Sherlock’s pissed face was the complete opposite of the polite smile on the face of his brother.

   “Nice to see you two, I hope my daughter isn’t a burden for you.”

   “No, she’s more like a lifesaver. Also is Lestrade!” said John.

   “Stop being so polite to my horrible brother. Where are we going?”

   “There is a high safety place with enough security guards where you can stay the night.” Meanwhile the car started and they were driving through downtown.

   “Where is Sam?”

   “We’ll pick her up soon.”

   “Where?”

   “Parkgate Road near…”

   “…Battersea Park” Sherlock finished his sentence. “Why there?”

   “A friend of hers is living there, and there she’ll also get what she needs further.”

   “But she is still in the flat!”

   “No, she already left, but not with her bike, she got picked up.”

   “I don’t get it...” John looked confused.

   “Well John, Sam is part of a company called ‘World Wide Spies’. It’s the biggest group of spies, agents and ‘bystanders’. Especially those ‘bystanders’ are important for the work of the organisation. They help with money, food, clothes, shelter and alibis. And some of them are in high positions, others just beggars.”

   “Still don’t get it.”

   “Imagine Sherlock’s homeless network in big and worldwide.” Mycroft smiled at John as if he was retarded.

   “We’ve passed Buckingham Palace, what are you up to? There’s a faster way to get there.” interjected Sherlock.

   “I’m buying my daughter some time. Champagne?” He raised a glass. Ignoring the stunned glances from his car passengers he took a sip.

   “I’m not sure which one of you is the more insane Holmes.” John shook his head in disbelieve and leaned against the window. The rest of the journey everyone in the car remained quiet. Slowly the car came to a halt. A woman opened the door and slid in. She had blonde, shoulder long hair, a straight fringe, wore a blue suit and a white blouse.

   “Hey there!” She smiled and touched her hair.

   “Where did you get that wig, Samantha?” She cast an angry glare at her father and opened a small, blue handbag.

   “Well, I’m always prepared. You two are going to have a room together, there was nothing else left, don’t complain. Chris and I are next door, so there’ll be no lack of security. Plus the security guards are well trained and told to shoot at anybody suspicious. I’ll get you some clothes from the flat tomorrow, and there’s stuff in a certain place, but I had no time to pick it up yet, so I’ll do that later. For the moment you are safe. I can’t tell you what to do next, but I stand beside you, whatever will come.” She took a deep breath and leaned back. Her phone rang. This time it was an iPhone 5s in silver.

   “Yes?”

   _“Sam? We’re here and already took the keys, just come up.”_

“Thanks Chris, I don’t know what I would do without you!”

   _“See ya.”_

   “Ok.” She ran her fingers through her wig.

   “Isn`t there something you forgot?” Mycroft brushed over his suit.

   “Oh, my glasses!” She pulled silver-and-blue-coloured glasses out of her handbag and put them on.

   “You look like a business woman!” The doctor examined her.

   “Yes, that’s the point. Mycroft always appears with a no-name woman typing away on her phone and nobody cares about her. Oh, I also forgot this!” She pulled out some knives and handed them to Sherlock and John. “Just in case.” The car stopped again and Sam stretched herself.

   “Showtime!” She slipped out of the car and looked straight onto her phone. Mycroft stepped out next and brushed over his perfectly fitting suit.

   “Ann, follow me please.” He walked towards the hotel, Sam on his heels. John and Sherlock followed a little behind. The lobby was big and there were about five women standing at the reception, but Mycroft just nodded and passed by, towards the elevator. The travel upwards took some time and Sam’s new phone pinged about fifteen times. The only thing she said was:

   “Nanny.” The information wormed itself into Sherlock’s brain and he realised that there’d be an attack committed by a nanny or somebody with a nanny. The door slid open and they walked down a corridor, whose carpeted floor swallowed all the sounds. Around a corner there was a young woman talking to an elder man.

   “…She told me that there is no nanny worse than…” The old man moved suddenly when Sam and Mycroft walked by, towards Sherlock, a knife in his hands. Out of a reflex he shoved his pocket knife into the man’s gut. But the man`s speed and weight made the detective stumble, so he fell onto his back. In less than a second the woman was on her knees, wincing and whimpering. Sam turned her arm a bit further.

   “Tell me!”

   “He ordered us to do everything to kill him,” she winced when Sam pushed her arm a bit higher. “But I know nothing else. I was just his alibi!” Sam released her and she fell face forward on the ground. Security guards came running around another corner. Sam rolled the man away from Sherlock and pulled him onto his feet. His whole clothes were soiled with blood.

   “Well, at least your coat is clean,” Sam smiled encouragingly.

   “That’s the only good thing at the moment. I will now go and take a shower. John, come on!” Chris stepped out of a door.

   “Whoa, that’s awkward.” Sherlock stood in front of him, holding up his hand. “Oh, the keys!” Chris vanished and came back again with the keys.

   “Thank you.” John followed Sherlock inside. The door closed behind them.

   “My life would be boring without them,” Mycroft sighed and tapped Sam on the shoulder. “Good luck, ‘Ann’.” Then he left. Sam went into Chris’ and her room and let herself fall down onto the sofa.

   “How about some crap telly?” Chris fingers ran through her wig.

   “Doesn`t sound too bad.” She pulled the wig and the hair net off her head. The red hair fell down in a braid.

 

John went to Sam’s room to talk about the details, and when he came back Sherlock sat in an armchair, wearing nothing but his coat.

   “Sherlock, what exactly are you doing there?”

   “It was the only clean thing in here. I would have taken a sheet, but they have an elastic strap.”

   “Well, that’s the explanation for the messy bed.” John avoided looking at his flatmate and tried to restore the ruined bed.

   “Do you have a problem with me being naked?” Sherlock’s eyes were full of joy.

   “No… no… no… of course not. Why should I?” John’s voice was pitched high.

   “You do have a problem with it. Why?”

   “Uhm…it’s just because….uhm…well…I….”

   “Tell me and I’ll stop teasing you!”


	4. On the run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smexing ahed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx to Jalizar ;)

John froze and stared at Sherlock. The wicked grin on the detective`s face grew when he saw John in the trap.

   “I have a problem, because I … see loads of naked people in hospital every day, so I don’t want to see you naked, too!”

   “Lame. Even Mycroft is a better liar than you!” John blushed madly and turned away. Sherlock jumped onto his feet, coat flapping open.

   “Sherlock, stop it.” pleaded John, but Sherlock hugged John from behind anyway. He dug his nose into the doctor`s hair, breathing in the scent.

   “Oh John, don’t try to hide it from me. It’s way too obvious.” His hands slid down John’s muscular stomach and to his waistband. John shivered and tried to push Sherlock away, but his other arm tugged strongly at his chest.

   “Sherlock, what is wrong with you?”

   “Nothing, I just want to show you that your presence also affects me.” His mouth was just inches away from John’s ear and his husky voice made the man shiver. Sherlock pulled John’s back against his front. He growled when Sherlock’s erection pressed against his arse.

   “Sherlock, what are you doing?”

   “Trying to convince you to have sex with me...” John sucked in a sharp breath and tried to escape Sherlock’s grip. But the detective just licked at his nape and nibbled at the soft skin.

   “John, you’re trapped. And don’t tell me that you don’t want this to happen.” His pale fingers toyed with the first button of his shirt.

   “What are you up to?” John’s body went stiff and didn’t move a single bit, when Sherlock slowly opened button after button. When the shirt was just hanging from John’s shoulders, he slid it down completely and his long fingers wandered over the muscular chest.

   “I’d say sex.” With this word John’s body suddenly began to move. With small effort he threw Sherlock on the king-sized bed and kissed him roughly. While Sherlock’s hand flicked the belt and trouser buttons open John’s hands roamed over the pale chest of his flatmate. The deep hum he got in response even encouraged him to toy with the soft nipples under his palm till they were hard and red. Sherlock pushed John away from him and took a deep breath.

   “John, I want to fuck you hard.” His soon-to-be lover’s eyes widened and he was petrified for a second. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his body and turned him, so he laid with his back on the cool, soft sheets, the detective on top.

   “What about…uuugh…lube?” Sherlock kissed his way down to John’s prick.

   “Nobody needs lube.” Then Sherlock’s mouth was around John’s hard cock. Soft lips parted when the tip of his prick went in and out again. Suddenly he swallowed the whole hard flesh. Sherlock seemed to have no gagging reflex, because John felt himself hitting the back of his throat.

   “Oh Ssssssherrrrloooock!” His voice was low and rough. Sherlock let his tongue run over the tip again and again. Precum filled Sherlock’s mouth and when he swallowed it, the muscles of his mouth and his lips clenched deliciously around John’s chock and he came with a deep war cry in his lover’s mouth. With a wicked grin Sherlock pulled away from John and licked his lips.

   “You didn’t last long John, what’s wrong with you?”

   “It’s because of you.” John’s palm caressed Sherlock’s high cheekbones.

   “I’m going to fuck you now.” Without another warning he grabbed John’s legs, lifted his arse and positioned himself against John’s entrance. To help him, John wound his legs around Sherlock’s waist and arched his back.

   “Okay...” he mumbled. Slowly, awfully slowly Sherlock slid into him, stretching the muscles and filling his insides with warmth. “Bloody hell!!!” yelled John.

   “Joooohnnn...” Sherlock moaned and breathed sharply.

   “Move, please move!” And Sherlock moved, easing himself slowly in and out, stretching John even further. The feeling let everything else, every other sexual experience John had vanished into nothing.

   “I can’t take it anymore!”

   “No, Sherl...” John’s sentence was interrupted by moans of pain or pleasure, he wasn’t really sure which was stronger. Sherlock pounded fast into him now, his curls shaking with every thrust. John was shoved against the head of the bed, gripping the iron staves for support. The pain finally drowned in waves of never-ending pleasure.

   “There, Sherlock!!” Unconsciously John moaned to himself, when Sherlock hit _that spot_. The detective thrust now more fiercely into him and dug his fingertips into the soft skin of John’s hip.

   “Oh Joooohnn!” Hearing his name from Sherlock’s lips during his orgasm sent John over the edge.

   “Ssssheeerrlooooock!” His lover fell exhausted on top of him. Both were panting hard and didn’t have the strength to do anything at all. Slowly the numbness crawled out of John’s body and he raised a hand. His fingers combed through Sherlock’s dark curls, massaging his scalp.

   “Oh John, that was amazing.” Sherlock mumbled against John’s chest.

   “So we’re going to do this again?”

   “What stupid question, of course!” Sherlock raised himself in an elegant way, stared down to John and pulled out of him with a deep sigh.

   “We’ll wait till Sam returns before we shower, don’t we?”

   “Yes.” Then Sherlock pulled the duvet over his and John’s shoulders and immediately fell asleep next to his lover.

 

Sam’s breath was flat and she laid here since half an hour. Her hole body felt like somebody drove a steamroller over her. Her phone rang. With the rest of her energy she pulled it out of her pocket. _Mycroft Holmes_

   “Dad?”

   _“Where are you?”_

   “Well… I am not in the best condition to stand up right now”

_“What happened?”_

 “I fell down, about one and a half meter. On stone. And everything hurts”

   _“Do you need help?”_

   “Kinda”

   _“Where are you exactly?”_

   “No, don’t send anybody to pick me up. There are some guys around here, they have to disappear. Without them I’ll be able to finish the delivery. HURRY!” She discontented and lay her hand on her breast. With a painful moan she picked herself up. The cool ground made her shoulders stiff as hell.

   “Sometimes I really hate my live!” Before she eft, she checked, if the Grach was still in it’s place. Then she slowly slid out of the alley into the busy London-lunch-rush. She stopped at a sandwich bar to her beloved tuna-and-sweat corn- sandwich, then she went to pick up those damn clothes. The wig scratched on her head, but her mirror on the window of a job said, that it’d be a silly decision to scratch right now. It took ages for her, till the plaits sat right. All in all she looked like a total freak. The black-and-withe wig with the different coloured plaits plus the also black-and-withe Lolita dress and the small lace gloves and the high heels with glitter. Her eyes were also black and withe, thanks to contacts. She felt the glances from all the well-dressed and wealthy girls around her with her perfect brushed hair.

   “God’s sake, look at her”

   “How embarrassing to see someone dressed like this”

   “I can’t imagine a reason to wear something this tasteless” With a sudden rege, Sam turned.

   “Oh, shut up. I don’t like your clothes either. Let me wear what I want to wear and I wont complain about your style. And if you still can’t shut you damn mouth, PISS OFF!” With a death-glare she want away, deeper into the labyrinth of alley’s and avenue’s. Her destination was a small flat in an old house. Some other anime-fans sat on the cold stairway and clapped, when she came in sight.

   “Heeey, awesome dress, where did you got it?” The girl was dressed like Katara from _Avatar_.

   “A friend of mine made it” She twirled and giggled.

   “Ugh, I want to have such a friend!” Katara-girl stood up to let her in. Upstairs Sahar already waited for Sam.

   “Hey, honey” A smack on the cheek greeted Sam.

   “Hi”

   “You’re here for the clothes, aren’t you?”

   “Yep, I’d like to take them with me now, they’re waiting”

   “What’s up? You seemed to be hurt”

   “A very unpleasant meeting with concrete floor”

   “Ouch” Sahar went into her room, full of cosplay-dresses, wigs, masks and drawings.

   “Ever heard of tidying up?”

   “Pfff, only losers do that”

   “Yes, yes,  like ‘Das Genie beherrscht das Chaos’” (Translation: The Genuis rules the chaos)

   “Well, yeah” She ripped a packet open, full with clothes for men. “This is what I received” Sam kneelt beside her and tugged on some shirts and trousers. She picked some plain, light coloured shirts, dark trousers and jackets.

   “Can I have a bag?”

   “Yes, a second please” Sahar opened a cupboard and pulled a black handbag.

   “Thanks” Without hesitation Sam grabbed the bag and stuffed the clothes in it.

   “Hey, just one thing: Don’t die, ok?” The Iranian girl looked Sam deep into the eyes.

   “Can’t promise anything. But I try” She was ready to leave, when a policeman nocked on the door.

   “Who is this?” Sam’s whisper was barely recognizable.

   “My new boyfriend!” Proudly Sahar went over to kiss the man.

   “You’re straight?” Sam was laughing, when she saw the glare, Sahar send to her.

   “Stop it!”

   “Well, I’m leaving then. Bye!”

   “Text me!” Then the door shut behind Sam and she pulled her phone out.

            He got a booty XD

The reply was just seconds later.

            Oh yes *smirk*

            I envy you! A fucking policeman!

            Hey, you got Chris. And he also got a booty!!!

            And he’s Canadian!

            I don’t know, what’s with Canadian’s

            Well and about your fascination with Asian’s?

            That’s something different!! (Are you still in front of my flat?)

            Sí XP

            PISS OFF!

            Yes Mylady *bows*

Sam ran down the stairs, passed the people on the ground floor and out on the avenue. But when she was about to go around the corner, she hesitated. Two men where standing in a dark entrance. In exactly this second Sam started to run. Despite her high shoes she didn’t tripped. Fortunately she knew her way around those alleys and pretty fast, the men fell behind. But they know knew how she was dressed. First the wig went off, the she pulled a jacket over and the ribbons and flowers were ripped off her shoes. The black skirt lost his top layer, a glitter, silky fabric. Her blouse was now hidden under the jacket, but her feet began to hurt. She went into the next sport-shop and bought herself some fucking expensive running shoes. Next door a tight, bright red jeans and a T-Shirt with “The lady and the Tramp” on it. Her contacts were left in the changing room and the old clothes in the bags. At last she bought a dark green hoodie. Her style changed from _contra-mainstream_ to _mainstream-as-fuck._ But Sam still felt somebody following her. Her fast steps lead to another labyrinth of small alley’s and right there where some men waiting for her. Thanks to her new shoes she ran all the way back to Q-Park Burlington Street. At the last level she found him: Freddy.

   “Ey, Freddy move” She kicked him, while he laid on the cold floor.

   “What?” His annoyed voice was enough live sign for Sam.

   “Need a car, fast” Freddy sat up stared at her.

   “Can I sleep again after?”

   “Yes, but I don’t know how any human being can sleep down here” Freddy grunted and threw a car key to her. 

   “The black 911”

   “Wow, thanks Freddy. You’ll get it back!”

   “Yes, now piss off!” Freddy pulled his blanket over his head and Sam ran to named car. The motor rounded great, especially when she drove up. When she tried to get out, there were some problems with the machine, but she didn’t care. She pulled out of the building and turned left in the Regent str. When she thought she was safe, she called Chris.

   “Hey Chris, how are you?”

   _“Hey sweetheart. I’m fine, but I heared you are in trouble?”_

   “Yes, but I got help from Freddy”

   _“This beggar in the park house?”_

   “Yes, I got an 911 Porsche”

   _“That’s awesome, but what are you doing now?”_

“I don’t really know, but I’m trying to drive anywhere to distract them”

   _“Aren’t Sherlock and John waiting for the clothes?”_

“I didn’t got texted nor called”

   _“I haven’t heard anything”_

“Let’s hope for the best”

   _“When are you going to be here?”_

“Don’t know. But I hurry, promise”

   _“If something happens, I’ll call you, ok?”_

“Ok”

   _“How was Sahar?”_

“Fine, she got herself a new boyfriend”

   _“I though she I lesbian?”_

“Same thought, but seems like we were wrong”

  _“Well, see ya”_

 “Bye”

 

It took over two hours till she was home, but Sherlock didn’t complain.

   “It’s getting late, do any of you want to eat”

   “No thanks” John smiled at Sam, somehow relieved.

   “Did you two had a fight?”

   “No, why are you asking?”

   “You seem to be relaxed, more than ever”

   “We shagged” Sherlock’s sonorous voice was still hear able in the living room while he showered.

   “And I said, you two are gay!” Triumph and pride filled Sam when she left the shocked John in the middle of the room


	5. The Shopping Centre at night

In the middle of the night Sherlock and John were woken quite rudely when Sam nearly fell into the room.

   “Wake up you morons. He’s coming!” She was panting and her eyes widened in shock.

   “Waathssshaappenning?” Still half asleep John tried to get up, but he forgot that his and Sherlock’s legs were still entwined.

   “John, are you trying to rip away my legs?” Sherlock’s voice was even deeper than usual.

   “Guys, don’t tell me you shagged all night!” Sam rolled her eyes.

   “Well, then we better don’t tell you that we shagged all night.” The messy curls were slicked down on one side and extremely unruly on the other side of Sherlock’s head.

   “If you’ll excuse me, there’s too much …gayness? Yes gayness in this room and I don’t want to get infected.” Sam slammed the door behind her. Mycroft, who was in the corridor the whole time, looked at her questioningly.

   “I’ll never ever enter a room again in which John and Sherlock have been all alone.” Her face nearly screamed out her disgust about the situation she just had experienced.

   “Weren’t you in favour of gay people? And homosexual marriages?” Mycroft smiled annoyingly.

   “Yes, but there is a difference between a friend of mine shagging his partner and my fucking uncle shagging his ‘straight-as-hell’ flatmate!” She sighed and took a deep breath. “But it could be worse. I should be happy that you’re not gay.” Mycroft’s smile froze on his face and Sam glared at him stunned.

   “Well…” Sam raised her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose.

   “Just shut up…okay, just be quiet and we’ll never talk about it again.” She turned and was nearly in her room when Mycroft cleared his throat and admitted:

   “It’s Greg.” Sam blinked once, twice and then coughed.

   “I’ll go into my room.” A second later Chris emerged from their room.

   “What the hell have you done to Sam? She is sitting in her armchair and is muttering ‘My dad is gay’ the whole time!”

   “Well, I told her that I have a relationship with Gregory Lestrade, Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard.” Mycroft’s face was serious. Chris blinked once, twice and then coughed.

   “I’ll go outside.” Then he left the older Holmes alone in the corridor and went to the elevator.

 

At the back of the hotel a dark blue Audi was parked. The driver saw Chris leaving the hotel and drew closer.

   “I’m here to take you to him.” Chris slid into the passenger seat and nodded.

   “Where is he?”

   “Westfield Shopping Centre.”

   “In the middle of the night?”

   “Yes, he prefers to be somewhere at night. He hates daylight.”

   “Are there any other ones?”

   “Two snipers at your order, and at every entrance trained gunmen. But be careful, he knows this mall better than you do.”

   “Well, let’s hope we’ll find him in time.”

   “Yes.” The car finally got to its destination, Wood Lane.

   “Thanks.”

   “Good luck, Christian.” He let the car disappear before he went to the entrance. The two snipers were already there and it seemed that their target was still in the shopping centre.

   “I’m so glad that my girlfriend always dragged me here, so I know my way around.” One of the snipers, Marian, puffed at his cigarette.

   “Good, because Sam hates shopping.”

   “Really? She had a lot of different clothes when I saw her last time.” Marian snipped his cigarette onto the floor.

   “She buys her clothes in a hurry most of the time, when she needs to disappear. And that’s quite often.” Chris stepped towards the entrance, fed up with talking about Sam. The darkness inside was horrible, but thankfully Marian handed him a night vision gear.

   “Here, I don’t need one.” Now Chris saw the shops to the right and left clearly.

   “He is at ‘M&S’.” Marian pointed in the vague direction. The trio started walking along some jewellery shops and boutiques. The hallway made a sharp turn and another entrance came into sight. The gunman there raised his weapon without hesitation. Marian waved at him and turned right.

   “The shop is down there, just one entrance is open. There are no windows to escape and it’s directly across the drive down to the parking level. I never thought I’d be happy about there not being windows in malls.”

   “Shut up and move along.” The other sniper, a round faced guy with cool eyes, stared at Marian.

   “Relax, Belarusian!” Chris shook his head and proceeded. M&S was at another corner of the hallway, but Chris didn’t see the advantage of being in there. Just as their target, they could be trapped in there. An empty shopping centre at night was spooky enough, but seeing mannequins in an empty shop, at night and with a night vision gear was scary. Hallstands with “SALE” and “10 £ only!” were standing in their way. Suddenly Marian began to scream. The Golem had emerged from a dressing room, ran straight towards Marian, took his head between his hands and began to squeeze. The now high pitched screams and cries from Marian made Chris and the other sniper move. Chris ran into the Golem’s sight, aiming at his head. But the ugly mask of the insane turned into a crazy smile. One of his hands grabbed for Chris now. Meanwhile the other sniper went to the Golem’s back. He aimed and the Golem winced like a little child. But he neither turned nor stopped squeezing Marian’s head.

   “Try again!” Chris ducked under one of the Golem’s long arms and hid behind a hallstand. The second shot finally brought the golem down. Chris ran towards the dead man and turned him onto his back to make sure he wouldn’t be a threat anymore. After that his fingers went to Marian’s neck and then to his mouth.

   “He…is…” Chris’ throat was constricted. The Belarusian nodded.

   “I know.” His simple answer made it easier. Every day every one of them risked their lives. And sometimes someone lost his.

 

Sherlock stared at his brother.

   “No.”

   “Please?”

   “It is impossible that you and Lestrade have a relationship. You never met under private conditions, so any uprising feelings never happened. Furthermore Lestrade has a wife and children…”

   “No he hasn’t.” John raised his head from his hands.

   “Of course he has! He told me about five hundred times about his beautiful, amazing wife!”

   “That was a lie. He made it up to hide his relationship with Mycroft.”

   “Also Sherlock, don’t forget that Gregory was in charge during your drug time. He once had a wife but they got divorced about half a year after we met for the first time. He never told anyone except John and me.”

   “But why John?”

   “He was drunk and told me about his kids, he hadn’t seen them in ages. Then I asked him the next day what it was all about and… yeah… he told me.” Mycroft examined his brother and chuckled.

   “I should take a picture and send it to mummy. She probably never saw you that shocked and speechless.” Sherlock only glared at him until they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

   “Yes, who is it?” Annoyed Sherlock got out of his armchair. Before he could reach the door Sam opened it with her foot, dragging some bags behind her.

   “There is a door handle, please use it!”

   “Pfft, that’s too mainstream!” Sam threw the bags towards John and Sherlock.

   “Don’t throw heavy things around!”

   “Oh please, don’t cry like a little girl John, I brought your damn clothes and nearly got myself killed about five times, so don’t mess with me.” Today she was wearing some skinny leggings, a short, screaming pink skirt, black, tight leather boots, a black blazer and a leopard-printed blouse.

   “And where the hell did you get your stuff?” Sherlock frowned.

   “Stop that okay? That’s all I got.”

   “You had to buy yourself new clothes again?”

   “Yepp.” She pulled a bottle of orange juice out of the small fridge.

   “Isn’t this expensive?” John dug in his bag.

   “I could buy myself a Gucci-dress a day and I’d still make money.” She smiled brightly.

   “My money is flowing into your clothes!” Her smile faded, instead she glared at her father.

   “Just 5 percent, the rest is my mother’s.” Mycroft closed his eyes, tapping his fingers at his umbrella, just to immediately jump onto his feet terrified.

   “What are you doing, brother?” Sherlock fumbled with the zipper of his bag. But his brother just glared over at Sam and they locked eyes.

   “Shit!” She exclaimed loudly. In the next second she was out in the corridor and her eyes examined the area. Her long legs ran into her room, nearly destroying the door in the rush. In furious passion she searched her room. Finally the noise stopped. They could hear the heels of her boots coming back, more quiet this time.

   “Here, dad.” She handed Mycroft another umbrella. Relaxed he lowered himself back into the chair.

   “What was this all about?” John was confused. Without answering Mycroft twisted off the umbrella handle. Different kinds of pills fell into his palm.

   “All variations of fast, deadly poisons. Just in case.” (Note from the author: That’s true)

 

Sam sat in her room, trying to clean her gun’s, when her phone rang.

   “Sam speaking?”

   “Sahar here. I heard you’ve got some problems.”

   “Yes, they know where we are and uuuh. I don’t know what I am supposed to do now.”

   _“Go elsewhere.”_

“I’m fed up with running away all the time. I’ve done it the last week and - fuck - I’m just annoyed as hell!”

   _“Did you find something out?”_

“Yes, I know where the siblings are. There are only five targets left, including them.”

   _“Will you get a chance to take care of them?”_

“I hope so.”

_“Do you need my help?”_

“At the moment, no. But later maybe.”

   _“What about this Golem-guy?”_

“Chris killed him yesterday. He was on his way to Sherlock we suppose.”

   _“He was always this crazy!”_

“Not exactly. He was once an assassin of the British Government. But something happened and he turned into this monster named Golem.”

   _“Something like those ‘Soul Eater’-Golems?”_

“Yeah, yeah. Best if you think of him like this.”

   _“I have to finish, somebody is hungry.”_

“Okay, I’ll send you a text. Bye, Sahar.”

   _“Good luck, puppet master.”_

   “Stop joking!”

   _“Yes, as Mylady wishes!”_ Sam leaned against the window. Her fingers were playing with her phone when Chris came out of the bathroom.

   “Who called?”

   “Sahar.”

   “Why? She isn’t an assassin anymore.”

   “But she still owes me something.”

  “Ah, when you helped her with the creepy man?”

   “The creepy man was her… whatever.” Her phone pinged.

            What are we doing now – SH

            We’re next door!

            Come over – SH

   “Sherlock wants us to come over.”

   “You go, ok?”

   “Mh...” Sam pulled open the door and crossed the corridor. Sherlock and John already waited for her.

   “Well, why aren’t you telling us what the hell is going on?” Sherlock ruffled his curls.

   “The reason why I don’t tell you everything is because it’d be too dangerous. But I have good news. I’ve found the siblings before they found us.”

   “And were are they?”

   “There’s the problem. I just know where they possibly are. Not the exact street.”

   “TELL US” John was really angry now.

   “In the University for the Creative Arts, Canterbury.”


	6. The University and the first Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now corrected and there'll be two chapters and then it's over

Water dripped down her neck and she shook her head in disgust.

   “Where the hell are we?” Caroline looked around.

   “I’d say right below the University.”

   “It’s smelly, dirty and –eeewww- full of rats.”

   “Really, you’re such a pussy!” Sam turned on her headlight. The dark tunnel lit up and the two girls were able to see the pull out over their heads.

   “So we have to go up there, over the slippery ladder?”

   “Don’t piss yourself!” Sam gripped the first handle and pulled herself up. Right under the gully cover she stopped, pushing it up with her shoulders. With a loud clatter it fell onto the ground.

   “Well, so much for the statement `We’ll be in and out without someone noticing´. Sometimes your utter stupidity is horrible.”

   “Shut up and follow me!” Sam pulled herself up and kneeled beside a doorpost. Caro slid out of the gully and wiped her fingers clean on the fabric of her trousers.

   “Well, where do we have to go now?”

   “We are in the shower, so we have to go up.”

   “Do you think there are still students in here?”

   “No, it’s nearly one in the morning and it’s a damn Saturday.” Sam slipped out of the door and looked up and down the corridor. She went around two corners and pushed open a door.

   “Crafts and Design, empty.” Silently she let the door shut and went on.

   “You have a map in your head, don’t you?” Sam just hummed and went on. On the area there were three buildings.

   “The meeting rooms are locked and already checked, so we only have the main building left.” Sam zipped up her hoodie and began checking every room one by one.

   “This is an arts school, isn’t it?”

   “Yes, and architecture.” Sam wasn’t really in the mood to talk right now. Finally they entered the student bar.

   “Hungry?” Sam joked when suddenly a knife got stuck in the wall next to her head.

   “SAM!”

   “Down,” she growled and pushed Caro behind the counter, then let herself fall onto the cold floor. The knife thrower stopped for a second before he walked towards the girls. Sam heard the fast, nervous breath of Caro, her hand immediately slipped to her gun and she switched the lock off. The attacker was tall and clearly visible. He had dark curls and a long, horsey face. Slowly he slid around some tables and chuckled.

   “Two against one, that’s not fair, girls. I thought only one would come here. After all I have done you should have been that foolish. I even tricked your informant.” Caro glimpsed at Sam and winked twice. Sam nodded and slowly crawled towards the door. Caro’s taser was still laying there, were she dropped it. The sound when Sam tossed it to Caro was loud in the silent room.

   “Girls, what are you doing? You can’t keep me a fool.” The man stepped next to the counter and looked behind it. Before he was able to throw another knife, Caro shocked him and he fell hard onto the ground.

   “Holy shit.”

   “I’ll call Lestrade.”

   “Isn’t this the area of the Canterbury police department?”

   “They shouldn’t know about this. Only Lestrade should be informed.”

   “And he will inform WWS?”

   “Yes.” Sam tapped at her phone.

University of the Creative Arts was a bluff. Caught somebody. Tied up in Student’s Bar. Caro & I go to Sherly and Johnny.

Caro pushed open the door.

   “Now the funny part of the night begins.” She said sarcastically.

   “Hide and run!” Sam frowned.

 

The morning air was cool and Sherlock shivered a bit. John emerged from the bathroom.

   “You can, if you want.” His lover only wore a towel around his hips and Sherlock let his eyes roam across the lean muscles of his chest.

   “Have you shaved?”

   “Yes, I know that you don’t like me with a beard.”

   “As I said, I like my doctor nice and clean shaved!” The door was opened with such strength that it banged against the wall.

   “Sherly, Johnny, pack your stuff, we have to move!” Sam stood there, dirt on her marine blue jeans and the purple hoodie.

   “SHERLY?!” Sherlock stared at his niece and she poked her tongue out.

   “Be happy that she doesn’t call you Shelly.” The girl behind Sam looked even worse and tired.

   “SHELLY?!”

   “Shut it and pack your stuff. We’ll get a car, Caro takes the Porsche back to Freddy and you two won’t say a word on the trip!” Sam dashed away.

   “What happened?” John tugged at his towel to avoid that it slipped down his hips.

   “We got fooled. But I have to go!” Caro left the door open and they heard her walk away.

   “Ever heard of CLOSING A DOOR?!”

   “Relax Sherlock, I don’t think that any of them slept properly this night.” John’s hand laid on Sherlock’s forearm. The detective took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss John.

   “What would I do without you?” Sherlock embraced John, pulling his still wet chest to his clothed one.

   “Have no one to look after you.” John’s hand slid up to his lover’s cheekbones.

   “Don’t tell me you’re going to shag now!” Sam stood in the door again and raised one eyebrow. She had already changed into different jeans, a dark-green-and-white-striped shirt under a dark green hoodie.

   “No, we just kiss!”

   “Yeaaah!” Her tone was dry. “There’s something with Sherlock’s shirt. You two always are so lovey-dovey when he wears the purple one. I should call it ‘the purple shirt of sex’!” Then she came in, tore the two away from each other and pushed John towards the dressing room.

   “Get dressed.” She grabbed Sherlock’s arm, pulled him to the bed and ordered:

   “Pack.” Her phone pinged while she waited outside.

            The man says he is Samuel Davids. The fingerprints are identical-GL

            Well, his sister won’t be happy to hear that

            How about Sherlock and John?-GL

            They are packing…..hopefully

            You sometimes sound like an annoyed mother-GL

            Sometimes I also feel like one!

 

Greg smiled at Sam’s last text. Then he looked up and stared into Samuel Davids’ brown eyes.

   “My sister won’t be pleased to hear I got captured.” When he smirked his face deformed even more.

   “I don’t care what your sister will do. It’s more important what you WON’T do.” Lestrade was annoyed. Being woken up in the middle of the night wasn’t funny, but questioning somebody like Samuel Davids was even worse. This man seemed to make fun of Lestrade and his policemen. He found him tied up with cable ties in a chair. What a waist of cable ties. Annoyed Lestrade left the room, pulling his phone out.

   _“Martha speaking, what’s up Greg?”_

“We need a place for Samuel Davids. Do you know something?”

   _“Mh. Here he can’t be, too dangerous. But… mmh… Ah, I know!”_

“Where?”

_“A place nobody will look for him, I’ll send you the address!”_


	7. The falling of the british HQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well this is a little bit of depri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but we are both busy with stuff, but we promise to hurry up

Molly sighed.   
“Well, what can we do now?” She looked over to Mycroft und Greg.   
“I don’t think that you can help us. This is too dangerous. For the time being, you and Mrs Hudson will stay on the continent. You two will be safe there.”   
“But what about Sherlock, John and Sam?”   
“If they move now, we won’t be able to catch Moran and his helpers.”   
“But you’ll contact us when it’s safe again, won’t you?”   
“Of course!” Mycroft smiled and pushed her out of the room and his secretary took care of her.   
“I have a very bad feeling about all of this. Somebody will die.” Greg pushed his hand through his silver-grey hair.   
“Let’s just hope that we all survive this.” Mycroft palmed his lover’s cheek and gave him a light kiss.   
“Yes, yes, this is the only way.” Greg kept his eyes closed after the kiss.  
“Anyway, did you get anything out of Samuel Davids?”  
“Uhh. Don’t mention him! He is such a pain in the ass, it’s horrible!”  
“Sam said that his capture was way too easy. He wanted to be captured. Furthermore she thinks that his sister will try to rescue him with every force she got.”  
“Your daughter is not easy to fool, is she?” Greg smiled.   
“Yes, I am proud of that! Especially now, after she told me that the two of us got her blessing.”   
“You told her?!” Greg squeezed his fingers into Mycroft’s arm.  
“Oh yes. Am I not smart?” The inspector stared at him and let himself fall into a chair.  
“I don’t wanna live anymore!” He pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Stop complaining, let’s play something.”  
“Not this `electric doctor´ game again!” Mycroft chuckled. 

Blood ran down her spine, but she didn’t move. The men next the room talked loudly, thinking that she was still unconscious. The memories of the last hour slipped through her mind. The tricked her entirely. The men who attacked the britHQ were only a trap. The mole dug himself deep into the system and was unrecognized. Not even Sam saw him. An ugly, tiny woman with a sharp nose, who smelled always like old socks. Once she was the helping hand of Amanda, but after the former second security chief died, she took over the business. At first everybody was suspicious about that girl, but after some years, in which she did a perfect job, nobody though anything would happen. She had always helped Martha. And now she nocked her out and let her friends do their business. Somebody yanked the door open and pulled Martha out. The traitor Jana stood next to a man in a blue suit.   
“This is Martha, the developer of the Labyrinth.” She smiled wolfish.  
“Yes.” Another woman next to her looked down on Martha  
“What have you done to her?” The man came closer and leaned in.  
“I hit her in the neck and she fainted.” The leather of his shoes crunched as he kneeled down.   
“Seems like she woke up.” A big, strong hand cupped her chin and she blinked involuntarily because of the pain.  
“Who are you?” she said while he squeezed her throat.  
“Me? Your nightmare!” The blood flow stopped slowly and she felt the slow beat of her heart. Breathing was hard and her vision flickered.   
“Who?” Everything around her turned and her body lost all power.  
“Sebastian Moran!” and his hand tightened even more. In sudden shock she raised her hands, but the numb feeling increased, so they dropped like puppet arms at half way. Unable to breathe she saw how everything went brighter and then the colours faded and everything went dark. 

Sam typed furiously away on her computer.   
System three hacked!-Sam  
I see, but we can’t do anything-Caro  
What about Martha-Chris  
Nothing, I can’t tell you anything. Maybe she’s already dead. There are too many people in the observation room, I can’t filter her out of it  
So we don’t know anything?-Caro  
We can’t do anything, because most of us have to do other things-Chris  
CHRIS!!! The BritHQ is on his knees and you tell me there’s no one to protect it?-Sam  
Ah, and what about Mademoiselle? What are you doing right now?-Chris  
Guys, quit the bitch fight RIGHT NOW. There are more important things to discuss-Caro  
Tell us-Sam  
And by the way, I am protecting my uncle and his loverboy-Sam  
Sam…..no-Caro  
Promise, I won’t start again-Sam  
Good. We’ve got a different problem. Since the BritHQ is down, the place SD is at may be attacked next-Caro  
What now?-Chris  
Another place?-Sam  
No, that’d be too much at once! This has to end, right now!-Caro  
How?-Sam  
Face to face-Caro  
Sam breathed in. Shit, exactly what she didn’t want to do must be done now.  
No, because it is a VERY HIGH RISK. For me, Sherlock, John and Lestrade-Sam  
Why do you mention this DI?-Chris  
1st he is my father’s boyfriend; 2nd he is my colleague in this case; 3rd because he knows S&J-Sam  
And what about me?-Chris  
You are not in it-Sam  
Why?-Chris  
Because I don’t want that you die?!-Sam  
*Sam went offline*  
What? I don’t get her-Chris-  
Leave it be-Caro  
*Caro went offline*

Sherlock turned and examined the room. Deep green walls and a big bed, a cupboard and some chairs. That was it, the room they had to stay at.  
“Just temporary!” Sam promised and threw some bags inside. “I’ll be next door as usual, but don’t shag the whole time, please!” She had been there before the two arrived. She seemed to be nervous and exhausted more than usual.   
“Did something happen?” John tapped her onto the shoulder what made her jerk under his palm.   
“Everything’s..mh…fine.” Then she went to the door. Sherlock’s eyes followed her.  
“Tell us!” His deep, demanding baritone made her wince and she turned back around.  
“Martha migh…might be dead. And you are in…danger.” Her face showed pain. Her breath was faster than before and she went paler with every passing second. “It could be over any second. And I can’t do anything against it. I’m so sorry.” Her voice died in her throat.  
“What are…we going to…do now?” John’s voice was ragged.   
“Face to face,” she said. Sherlock inhaled sharply.  
“So we’ll risk our lives and try to bring them down when they already expect it?”  
“Yes.” Sam’s voice was small and she was nearly breaking down.   
“On whom can we count on?”  
“Caro, Chris and maybe … someone else…”   
“Who is it?” Sherlock gripped Sam’s arms and pulled her close.  
“I can’t tell you her name. She is something like the emergency plan. Leave me be!”  
“No, not until I know her name!” Suddenly Sam’s sharp nails dug into his arm and he released her arm from his grasp.   
“No, I won’t tell you!” Her voice got his powerful tone back and she stared at him with a steely gaze. “And never ever order me around again!” Then she removed her hand and just stared at her uncle. “This is none of your business and you must trust me. I know far more than you two do. You depend of me!” With forceful steps she went back into her room, shutting the door with a kick of her foot.  
“Sherlock…” John began, but the detective raised his hand.  
“I know, that this was rude, but it was the only way!”  
“Not it wasn’t! She is under his pressure, she might lose Chris or Caro or us! She is just 17 and… God’s sake, Sherlock, she is a young woman. She lost her best friend and nearly killed herself…”  
“That was it!” Sherlock paced the room. “I always thought that there was something dark in her past. She used her mother’s illness to cover it. Clever girl!”   
“Sherlock, can you please tell me, what is this about?”   
“Well, she was psychological down, had a depression and nearly killed herself. But … there was someone, who helped her through that time. And his or her-it hast to be a female-name and identity is something she would reveal everybody. Her emergency plan isn’t just based on loyalty, it’s based on something stronger…friendship!”  
“To hear from your mouth, that friendship is stronger than loyalty is somehow strange.”   
“I don’t believe in friendship and love!”  
“But I love you and you love me!” John insisted.  
“Maybe.” But then he saw the hurt in John’s eyes and smiled. “I love you.” When he kissed John he felt the smile on his lovers lips. “And I won’t tell you that often!” 

The coldness and wetness of her room slowly crawled into her while she was sitting near the window. Outside there was the usual British weather. The shiver that ran through her constantly made it hard to focus on anything, whether outside or in her mind. She scratched her nails over her hands and tried to think of anything.   
SAM, WHATEVER IT IS IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT!!! THERE’S NOTHING YOU HAVEN’T DONE!!!!!   
The text from Sahar made her a little bit happy. Her soul mate had been there for her all the time. She tapped her number into the phone and pressed `call´.  
“Sam, I’m here for you, tell me please.” This little gesture made her nearly cry.  
“I…I…can’t take it…anymore.” Her stomach ached and she wrapped her free arm around her waist. “It’s…too much.” Tears trickled down her face and she wasn’t able to speak clearly.  
“Ok, everything will be alright, I promise to help you with it. You won’t lose, not this time. Especially not this time.”   
“I’m afffr-h-aa-h-aii-h-d.” She whimpered and the word was shattered into pieces due to her body-wrecking sobs.   
“You are strong. You are the strongest woman I know. Don’t give up so easily. The woman I know wouldn’t be taken down by this. She would grind her teeth and go on. That’s your way and it was always the right one!” Sahar felt the panic Sam was in even through the phone.  
“Thissistoomuch.” Her fingernails dug into her ribs and even through the fabric of her t-shirt she scratched the first layer of skin.  
“You are not weak. Whatever happens to you, I’ll be by your side!” Sam didn’t reply and just kept on crying. “You are unbreakable. You are my hero. I worship you. So many people look up to you. Those who have been saved by you can’t forget you. You are the strongest, most powerful and most extraordinary person in this world!”  
“A shattered person can never be broken.” Sam wiped over her face, suddenly aware of her depression.  
“Yes.”   
“Puppet, your help is needed.”  
“Yes, master.” Sahar’s voice told that she was grinning. And both started giggling hysterically.

“John, Sam is giggling.” Sherlock stared at the door and John put down his book.   
“Yes.”   
“That’s unnatural. She just cried. Now she giggles.”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you think she is mentally ill?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock turned and found a pale, shaking John. He went over to him and knelt beside his chair.   
“What’s wrong with you?”  
“I’m,” he swallowed, “worried about Sam. She never seemed to be ok, even when she said she’d be fine. I do believe every assassin has his personal worst moments. But Sam is even worse. She lost her best friend and now she is close to losing her family.”  
“Do you think she knows what she is doing?”  
“She’s like the cabbie. She is aware of her actions, but she doesn’t stop herself. Because she saves more people than she harms.”  
“Pretty rational.” Sherlock grabbed John’s hand.  
“Yes. But it’s her only way of surviving each day. It’s either her or them.”  
“Now it’s we or them.”   
“Yes.” John shivered and coughed. “Oh, Sherlock, I’m afraid.”  
“Of what?”  
“Losing her. Or you. Or any of the persons around us.” Sherlock froze and got up.  
“Mrs Hudson and Molly.” John jumped to his feet and stared at the consulting detective. He realized it in less than two seconds.  
“Oh my god!”


	8. The puppet

   „They are safe!“

   “How do you know?” John was sitting in his chair, still shocked.

   “My father took care of them.”

   “Do you think Mycroft cares just _a bit_ about them? He is a damn emotionless bastard!” Sherlock’s face reddened.

   “No he isn’t. Why would he have me here to protect you then? He loves you and he knows that you love Mrs Hudson and Molly!” Sam poked him into his chest with a long lilac nail. “And don’t you dare call my father emotionless bastard one more time.”

   “Ah, now you’re protecting him, don’t you? What happened to your former… ughh.” She moved faster than Sherlock had expected. Her sharp, long nails dug into the sensitive skin of his right arm and his neck.

   “Sherlock Holmes, I have killed more people than you have seen corpses in your entire life. I wouldn’t start a fight with me. ‘Cause you’d lose it, definitely.” She clenched her jaw muscles and loosened her grip. Half moon shaped bruises showed on his pale skin. “Go now.”

   “Sam, we have to…”

   “GO NOW!” A slight hint of an apology showed in her eyes, but she shoved the two out of her room. After she had locked the door, she undressed and went into the bathroom. Her face was pale and her eyes lifeless. Once her skin had been smooth and unscathed. But now the countless scars all over her body shone in the cold neon light. In thought she traced her fingers over her ribcage. The long, thin scars across her back were old and nearly healed. They reminded her of the time right after _her_ death. Sam’s body stiffened and her hand fell to her side.

   “When the rich rage war, it’s the poor who die.”

(Hands Held High-Linkin Park)

 

            Jo, Sam. They got someone – Caro

Sam’s head turned in surprise, when she heard the ping-sound of an incoming message.

            Who?-Sam

            Young boy, six or seven. Son of a politician. They left a message: Get dry. Go where lots of people go. Creepy isn’t it?-Caro

            The fuck? I have no clue-Sam

            We need to operate faster. Ask Sherly-Caro

            I try-Sam

She stood up, throwing her cleaning stuff and her Browning aside. Sherlock looked up when Sam entered the room.

   “You need my help.”

   “Brilliant deduction, Sherlock Holmes.”

   “Let’s go outside, don’t want to wake John. He finally fell asleep.”

   “Kay.” The cool evening air made them shiver, but they stayed.

   “There’s a boy being kidnapped by Moriarty’s web. He’s the son of a politician. And we should search him “where lot’s of people go” and we should “get dry”. Got a clue?”

   “Mhm. The golem was killed in a department store. Davids got captured in a University. Maybe a swimming pool, but no, Moriarty pulled this joke, so it would be stupid.  Could be in the city, but there’s no place to hid properly and they know, that the police will search for him, so some where outside London, but still where people go.” Sherlock’s eyes were closed, but Sam saw, how they darted through his mind palace.

   “Well, could be near a sandy place. “Get dry”.”

   “Davids-captured-university cafeteria. Golem-killed-department store.”

   “Don’t forget, that both places selled cheap stuff.”

   “Cheap!” His eyes opened fast and the eyelids fell again. “of course. “Get dry”. It’s near the Thames. But …cheap-clothes-many people-… Matalan. They’ve got a storage building there!”

   “Oh Sherly, you’re a genius!”

   “Stop calling me like that!” But Sam only smiled.

   “Thanks uncle.” Then she turned and went back. Sherlock remained outside and shook his head. With a deep sign of relive he lit a cigarette and puffed the smoke over London.

 

High shelves blocked their view and even Chris, who was wearing a night sight device, wasn’t able to find any clue. So they had to split up. Everyone was walking down one row. Sherlock and John went together. Suddenly the lights went on and a voice said via speakers:

   “Welcome to Matalan, we are happy to welcome you here. Have fun with our assassins.” Chris, Caro, Greg, Sam and John pulled out their gun’s and waited patiently. Olga Kane faced Greg. George Peterson stood in front of Caro. Jana Alban twiddled her knifes, while grinning at Chris. Henry Nos clicked his teeth at John, who held Sherlock back. Mira Davids glared at Sam.

   “The game is on!” With this, everything begun. Jana threw her first knife at Chris. George ran towards the tinny Caro. Olga let her whip fly through the air. Henry aimed at John. And Mira tucked her gun away and jumped on Sam. Chris stepped to the side, but then Jana was on top of him, trying to slit his throat open. Caro climbed up one of the shelves, letting George ran down the row, turning a the end. Greg catched the end of the whip, the leader digging in his skin and he pulled, ripping Olga from her feet. Henry shot at John, but thanks to the military training, none of the bullets found their destiny. Mira’s finger scratched over Sam’s hand, when the two women fought weapon less in the row. With a hard kick in the stomach, Jana let out her breath falling on top of Chris and her stabbed her in the heart. The huge man was trying to follow Caro, but she let herself fall on him and shot while falling. Olga fell against one of the shelves, making it shake and this fell out of it, right on Caro, knocking her out. Sherlock and John pulled out their guns in one motion, aiming and shooting together. Mira threw Sam against the wall at the ens and she coughed. In return she kicked her enemy with her steel protected knee between the legs and Mira met the floor crying. Greg shot Olga and went next row to check on Caro.

   “Where is he?” Sam’s eye were full of hate and pure destruction.

   “Search. But the time is short. Very short!” Mira smiled coldly. Sam’s Grach was on her chin when the bullet left the barrel.

   “Sam?” Chris went to her, but she glared at him.

   “Search! Search for the boy and Moran! NOW!” Sam ran. Her feet barely touched the floor when she ran through the gigantic building. When she saw the opened door, she knew. There he was waiting for her.

   “It took you longer than I thought. You are not a clever as everyone says. And so is your uncle!” The room was filled by cigarette smoke and smelled also like old socks.  In the middle, Sebastian Moran stood, smiling like a winner and puffing smoke up to the ceiling. 

   “It’s nice to meet you after all this.” Then man didn’t replied. “What is this all about? Total world domination? Or just-for-fun-killing?”

   “Oh, Miss Holmes, you are wrong. We wanted to be like Moriarty. Strong, powerful and amazing.” He grinned and threw his cigarrette on the floor. "There are things this obvious, that you only see them after long searching. A fassade is better than nothing!" Sam stared at Moran in shock. .

   “Moriarty’s Web was a trick, wasn’t it. You build it up, but after his death. Oh, that’s unexpected. Very clever. But you shouldn’t forget one thing: My last name isn’t Holmes.”

   “Samantha, I know. But you are more Holmes, than I expected you to be. You are not a master at deduction like Sherlock, nor a control freak like you’re father. But there’s something Holmes-like about you. Not obvious to everybody, but still there.”

   “It’s rude not to answer the questions of an armed assassin.”

   “It was a revenge. A revenge we will become.”

   “All of your followers are dead or in prison. There won’t be someone to take revenge for anything.”

   “There’ll be, trust me. At least somebody in front of me, will take revenge for somebody, behind me.” With this he stepped back, revealing the dead body of the boy.

   “You bastard.”

   „Oh, now you're getting rude, sweet heart."

   "Nobody calls me sweet heart."

   "And how about you uncle, is he allowed to call you like this?"

   "No, why should he?"

   "Oh, just, you two seemed to be very close." Moran pulled out a fire and flicked it open, stairing at the flame.

   "He's my uncle! Of course we are close!"

   "But he's an asshole, he doesn't deserve to live!"

   "Shut it, now!"

   "He's like you father: Just a fucking cockroach!" 

Sam set in motion, gun aiming at Moran, but he just pushed a button and a hidden gun fired. In this second, the others went into the room, seeing Sam shot in the chest by an automat. Her red hair flying while she hit the floor.

   “Sam!” John tried to ran forward, but Greg stopped him.

   “There’s nothing we can do for her anymore.”

   “Murder! Murder!” Caro screamed with a high pitched voice.

   “You call me a murder.” Moran laughed his ass off.

   “Oh yes she does. And it’s nothing to laugh about!” The voice was ice cold and came from the corner near a shabby window. Sherlock looked at her. The hair: A wig. The pale colour of the face: Loads of powder. The red splashes on her dress: Fresh and old blood. But there was no weapon. At least nothing what possibly could be transformed into a weapon.

   “How are you?” Moran’s eyes slid over her.

   “Her puppet.”

   “You may be a damn puppet, but you have no weapons. And I kill everybody who’s weaker than me.”

   “And why did you kill Sam then? She was _ages_ better and stronger than you!” The woman stepped forward.

   “No, she sacrificed herself for this bloody Sherlock Holmes. She _actually believed_ in him.” Sahar shook her head and stepped forward.

   “Sam loved him like she loved her father, like she loved Chris. She even loved me, the strangest person in the world. She was _kind_ , something you’ll never be.” Moran laughed.

   “Are you kidding me? She was an assassin and those kinds of people have no emotions. They don’t know what love is.”

   “And how about you?”

   “I was the right hand of the most brilliant and most amazing man in the world. The person who wanted everything for us. Who did everything for us.”

   “Total world domination?”

   “Maybe.”

   “And what if you would have won? What would he have done, with him as the leader of the world? Claim the universe? Or something else?” Moran clenched his fists, like he didn’t know what to say. Sahar grinned and stepped forward. Every footstep punctuated a word. “See…what…I…want…to…say? Your…plan…was…nonsense!”

   “ _NO!_ WE were the earthquake, shaking London and the world. WE were the criminals of the new age!” Now the woman stood directly in front of Moran.

   “Sebastian. Think of John Watson. He saw the man he loved jumping off a rooftop and dying on the ground. But he didn’t become insane. He was strong enough to witness the death of Sherlock Holmes. But you didn’t see the last minutes of Jim Moriarty’s life or anything else that day. You are weak and the strong ones will rip you to pieces.” Sahar took his now limp hand which was still now holding a small gun. She loaded it and put it against his head.

   “Goodbye, Sebastian-san.” The shot was loud in the empty warehouse. Her grip on Moran’s hand was strong enough to hold the dead body mostly above the floor. Then Sahar pulled a scalpel out of a hidden pocket in her dress. She lowered Moran to the ground, undressed the man slowly and knelt beside him. Into his chest she carved something. Before she got up she rammed the knife into his eyeballs. Then she raised herself. Tears were streaming down her face, flushing away the white powder on her face. Movement came into Lestrade, Chris and John. Only Sherlock stood still, watching Sahar and especially Chris. Lestrade pulled his phone out and called Mycroft.

   _“She died.”_ Mycroft said right after picking up.

   “Yes.” Lestrade’s pressed voice was low.

   _“Oh god.”_ And for the first time in a lot of years Mycroft Holmes cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry, but there'll be two other chapters, so the story will have a proper ending


	9. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam didn't just died, she left something behind.

_Her green eyes were lit up by the sunshine beaming through the windows and her long blond hair fell over her shoulder and brushed against her elbow. Her lips parted and she made this little happy sound. Her fingers slid over the page and she turned it around._

_“Sam?” Chris’ voice sounded strange through the video._

_“What is it?” ---_

Sahar sobbed. Her fingers clenched and her fingernails dug into her palm. Sam was alive, if only on the screen of her computer. It showed her deep green eyes, full of happiness and joy and her hair in its natural colour. The video had been made during their trip to Japan, in Bombay, where they had made a one-week-stop. It had been the last holidays before Chris had disappeared. Back then, Sam had had fancy nails every day and had painted them depending of her clothes. She had dyed her hair not for protection, but for fun. She had been so alive back then. She had come out of her little shell back then, the wall she had built to protect herself had cracked a little. But as slow as she had changed this way, the faster she had transformed into a machine later on. Every day she had been more like a walking, haunted corpse and less than Sam, the funny, noisy girl from academy. Sahar ran her hands over her face and stared at her wrist. The last long black line on her skin was new and still burning from the needle. Fifteen lines on her arm stood for the fifteen people she killed. And she promised herself in that second never to get another one.

 

Mycroft stared at the bookshelves in the Diogenes Club and didn’t hear the low chatter around him. His hand gripped the umbrella tightly, but he felt nothing of his body. He might have lost some of the people he liked, some even died in front of him, but he had never lost somebody he loved before. Not as much as he loved his only daughter. There were only few memories of her, the most of her being angry with him, or of her taking care of her mother, who never got out of her wheelchair. Greg had called about fifteen times to check on him and to tell him he’d be at his villa after his shift, but there were so many things to explain and to fix that he didn’t leave the Yard yet. His phone pinged and got him out of his mind palace.

            I got something you may want to see-SH

Mycroft inhaled and held his breath as he tapped in his reply.

            You got what?-MH

Waiting for a reply he fondled his phone, turning and tapping at it. A waiter appeared by his side.

   “Can I get you something?”

   “Yes, a scotch if you’re so kind.” _And my daughter back alive._ But he held the tears back and bit his lower lip.

            There is something on Sam’s computer. Personal-SH

It hit him hard. Something personal? A note? Maybe pictures of her with her mother? But…wait…a _note_? A message? No, it had to be a … _video message_? Mycroft jumped off his seat, suddenly full of energy. Without hesitation or listening to the waiter screaming: “Sir, your scotch!” he ran out of the club towards his car. Anthea looked up from her phone.

   “Mr Holmes, what are you doing here? You’re supposed…”

   “I know what I am supposed to do. Now tell the driver to go to 221B!” Anthea stared at her boss, speechless.

   “Is it about…”

   “What’s it about shouldn’t bother you!” Mycroft usually was calm and polite, but now he let his emotions run free. Still Anthea stared at him in shock but instructed the driver.

   “Sir, I am worried.”

   “It’s something about Samantha Hofmann.” Her mouth turned into something resembling an O. Immediately the driver started the car and drove through the busy streets of London. When they finally pulled up at his brother’s address he had nearly lost his nerves. _You are Mycroft Holmes, you aren’t afraid of anything. Furthermore you don’t have emotions or do care for somebody. Caring is not an advantage._ He took a deep breath and entered through the unlocked door. John stood at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes full of nervousness and fear.

   “Sherlock has seen his video and now locked himself into his room. I don’t know what I should do.”

   “Everything will be fixed, I promise.” Mycroft tapped onto his shoulder and went up the dark stairway. When he knocked on Sherlock’s door he heard a snort.

   “ _Brother._ ”

   “Sherlock, stop acting like a silly little girl and tell me what happened.” The door nearly fell out of the doorframe when the detective burst it open.

   “She made a video to say goodbye. It is like she is the oracle of Delphi, she knew she would die. This is the most horrid thing I ever went through!” The last time Mycroft saw his brother this teary and lost was when he destroyed the old porcelain figure of Napoleon which was a legacy of their great-great-great-great-grandfather. And back then Sherlock was a boy of seven years.

   “See?” John whispered.

   “Have you seen yours already?” John shook his head.

   “I wanted to watch it with Sherlock. We also watched his together.”

   “What did she say?” Mycroft was hardly able to speak.

   “She said she was sorry, but he shouldn’t worry because she wanted it this way. And that he should take the human body parts out of the fridge.” John couldn’t help but smile on this little issue Sherlock and he often debated about, too.

   “Can I watch mine?”

   “Yes, it’s here on a stick.” John went into the living room and pulled it out of an envelope.

   “Thank you.” Mycroft tipped his umbrella twice onto the floor, nodded at John and slowly walked back down to the car. His hand clenched around the small item and he shivered slightly. Anthea sat opposite of him.

   “Mr Holmes?” The worry in her voice brought him back to reality.

   “Everything is alright. Back to the house.” The car moved and he looked out of the window. He might seem like a block of ice to most of the people he met, but even somebody made of ice has dreams and wishes. He didn’t love in the usual way, it more or less was an urge to protect the persons who were precious to him. And sometimes he failed.

            Gregory, come to the villa – MH

            I am at work, if you know what that means. No time for shagging – GL

            I don’t want to take you to bed, I need to talk to you in person – MH

            Relax, I’ll be there in a few minutes – GL

The car stopped and he jumped out. He strode towards the door, opened it and nearly fell over the carpet on the floor. His knees felt like water and he was barely able to get into his office.

            Waiting in the office. HURRY-MH

            Woa, you’re using capitals. Seems to be important-GL

            Stop making fun of me, DI Lestrade-MH

            I love you too-GL

Mycroft forced out a half smile and felt like he could cry any second. He never felt this. He never allowed this. And he never thought this would happen. His own daughter.

   “Sherlock is no help at all. He might be her uncle, but he doesn’t know what losing a daughter means. I…I never wanted this to happen. Not me feeling sad. Not her being dead. Not her mother losing her. Not… not anything of this,” he told his computer. “I have no idea what to do now. Have you heard that? I have no idea what to do now. That’s a first. I am… feeling so useless, even if I’m not supposed to feel like this. I was aware that she could die, but I didn’t do anything about it. I wanted to be strong. For Sherlock. For Gregory. For Sam. For me. But…”

   “…you can’t be strong all the time.” Gregory stood next to him. His hair was damp from sweating and his cheeks were flushed.

   “Gregory.” His hand slipped into his lover’s open jacket, gripping the shirt tightly. “I need you.” He whimpered.

   “Sh. Alright, I’m here. I won’t leave.” But before he could embrace Mycroft he pulled out the stick.

   “Watch this with me. Please.” Gregory swallowed, confused, but he pushed the offered item into the already running computer. Some files appeared and one was named: _For Dad._ Asking for agreement he looked at Mycroft, who nodded and took a deep breath. Greg clicked on the first video file. Quickplayer popped up and Sam’s face filled the screen.

   _“Hey Dad. If you watch this video and I am still alive, please don’t continue. If I’m not, just watch._ ” Her eyes were red and she sat in a shabby room. “ _The intention behind this and the other videos is that these are some kind of message to you. Don’t think I wouldn’t have given them to you someday. I would have on my 18 th birthday. But it seems like I’m dying before that._” She ran her fingers through her messy hair. _“A lot of people do this, y’know. But for me it’s always hard. I cannot really tell what I am feeling, but I’m trying to. I also did one for John and Sherlock and some of my friends. But I think this one will be the hardest._ ” She cleared her throat and coughed. _“You may think I hate you or something. But that’s wrong. I think that we’re just too similar to get along too well. We both want to protect the important things in our lives. You want to protect me, but I am already aware that I won’t become 30 or 40 years. And to be honest I don’t even want to.”_ She clenched her fingers and scratched her nails across the back of her hands. Her eyes wandered off and she bit her bottom lip. _“When she died my life, my world, broke. If I were to become old and ugly, I would have wanted her by my side. Not because I was in love with her. No, she was my sun, the heart of my universe. She was my treasure, one I didn’t want to share with anyone else. And within just one evening everything became dark. My life. My universe. Her eyes.”_ She swallowed hard and her jaw clenched. _“I…I could have needed help back then. I didn’t want to bother my mother with it, so I went to see Sahar. My puppet.”_ A tiny half-smile lit up her sad face _. “She was my lifesaver. She was there for me._ ” A tear slid down her face and she wiped it away _. “Father, I didn’t want you in my life because it would just have meant one more person would’ve been hurt if I died. Mum always said she wanted you to be happy. That’s why she didn’t invite you too often. She still adores you. Not in real love, more like worshipping. I like you, Dad. In a way that’s hard to explain.”_ Her eyes were fixed onto the camera. _“You may not be the kind of dad that goes on about the football matches of the past evening, but more like a father that cares about me. Who is able to sacrifice anyone and anything to protect me. And that’s why I want YOU to be my father and nobody else. You are my father and I can tell even without any test that you are. I want you to know that.”_ She took a deep breath and smiled with tears in her eyes. Mycroft made a weak, wincing sound and Greg held him closer. _“Please forgive me for all those fights we had. I love you, Daddy.”_ She bit her lips and began to cry. _“You are…my father…and you can…tell everybody…that I loved you…Please…”_ Then the screen went blank. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sad, but I try to make the next one more happy.  
> (Sorry, that it is late again, but so many other things to do...)


	10. Her last wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral of Sam

Sherlock stared at the coffin. There was her body in it. John sniffed in a tissue and held his hand painfully strong. The man in the cabinet pushed a button and the coffin slowly pulled towards the big oven. Sahar stood at the window, one hand against it and sobbed silently. Mycroft tried to make his face emotionless, but he couldn’t fool the others in the room. Greg chewed his lower lip like gum and Sherlock was surprised, that he wasn’t bleeding by the time. Sahar saluted, but in a strange way. Her hands clenched to fists, her left arm at her back and her right hand above her heart. She looked, like she wasn’t doing this the first time.   
“The last salute for Samantha Hofmann.” Sherlock’ eyes twitched and he inhaled deeply. Then the doot to the oven opened, revealing a room filed with fire.   
“Auf Wiedersehen.” (See you soon)

The church slowly filled itself with people. Some declared sympathy to Mycroft and Sherlock, but they searched the crowd for a special person. When they saw her, it was a shock for Sherlock. He knew she sat in a wheelchair, but he expected a broken woman. But the blonde, still fit disabled female, who rolled towards the two of them just looked like Sam. The same green eyes and facial features.   
“Mycroft.”   
“Wilma. I am so sorry, that I wasn’t able to protect her. I shouldn’t have let her come…”  
“Mycroft, let’s just agree that we both were unable to stop an early death of our daughter. She always had an unsafe job and she was aware, that she won’t get old an regretful.” The she rolled by.   
“She is silver tongued.”  
“Oh yes, she is.” When they stepped into the church, a large picture of her was beamed on a screen. Eyes shinning bright, hair gleaming in sunlight, showing the slight red shimmer inherited from her father and the golden colour of her mother. Some of her friends stood next to the priest. She wasn’t religious but it was her mothers wish to bury her here, in St. Andrews. The funeral took place in the old, destroyed St. Andrews church. The salty air from the sea swept over the guests sitting on white chairs in the shy sunlight. Her mother rolled carefully towards the microphone, when Sahar jumped on her feet and pushed her further. Then she handed over the microphone.   
“Thank you all for coming. Especially to her friends from Russia and Japan. You may ask, why the funeral takes place here. It’s a story from her better days. She went together with one of her friends here.” She smiled towards a pole sitting in the first row. “She told me afterwards, how amazing this place had been and how much fun in general Scotland had been. And she also told me, that, if she would have the chance to die in a certain place it would have been here. So I decided to bury her here.” She cleared her throat. “You may expect me to talk about my daughter, but I don’t really feel like. She was strong and amazed loads of people. But she was more than words. She was more than just a mother’s sad speech. She was this kind of person, who was kind und cruel in once. With a story told in pictures.” Sahar tapped in a computer and the picture changed. She stood in front of the Kremlin on the Red Square. She was wearing a head with earflaps and fur. And a picture in the Moscow Metro, holding Metro 2033 in her hands. The next one seemed to be in the academy. Sitting on some tables she seemed to sing something. And a tune began, first just silent, then louder. 

Rossiya – svyashchennaya nasha derzhava,  
 Rossiya – lyubimaya nasha strana.   
Moguchaya volya, velikaya slava –  
 Tvoio dostoyanye na vse vremena!  
Chorus:  
Slav'sya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye,  
Bratskih narodov soyuz vekovoi,  
Predkami dannaya mudrost' narodnaya!  
Slav'sya, strana! My gordimsya toboi!

Ot yuzhnyh morei do polyarnogo kraya   
Raskinulis' nashi lesa i polya.   
Odna ty na svete! Odna ty takaya –   
Khranimaya Bogom rodnaya zemlya!  
Chorus  
Shirokii prostor dlya mechty i dlya zhizni.   
Gryadushchiye nam otkryvayut goda.   
Nam silu daiot nasha vernost' Otchizne.   
Tak bylo, tak yest' i tak budet vsegda!  
Chorus Russia – our sacred homeland,  
 Russia – our beloved country.  
 A mighty will, great glory –   
These are your heritage for all time!  
Chorus:  
Be glorious, our free Motherland,  
Age-old union of fraternal peoples,  
Ancestor-given wisdom of the people!  
Be glorious, our country! We are proud of you!

From the southern seas to the polar lands   
Spread are our forests and fields.   
You are unique in the world, one of a kind –   
This native land protected by God!  
Chorus  
Wide spaces for dreams and for living  
 Are opened for us by the coming years   
Our loyalty to the Motherland gives us strength.   
Thus it was, thus it is and thus it always will be!  
Chorus  
(The Russian National Anthem)

Some even began so sing with it, the slow Russian National Anthem filling the church ruin. Sherlock saw, how John held his breath. Maybe this scene reminded him of his military service, when they send another dead body home. As the song began, it vanished again, leaving most of the Russians teary and sad. Another picture popped up. She was wearing her uniform, getting her certificate. She didn’t smiled, but it was clear, that she burst with happiness. Another where she jumped of the stage and her friends waited for her. Some of them mafficked even now. One was smiling, tears over his face. The picture vanished and another showed her sitting on a bench under a blooming cherry tree in a deep green Kimono. She held dangos (Sweets) in her hand. Her gold-silver watch gleamed in the sunlight. Mycrofts finger ran over his wrist, feeling the half-warm metal. He stood up and went away, even though there were countless other pictures. When he stood by the seaside he clicked the watch open and let it fall on his palm. It took him ages back.   
\--  
“There she goes.” Wilma pointed towards the muscular girl jumping on the stage, like stairs overrated. She bit down her lower lip and took the offered certificate. Without hesitation she jumped down, just in the middle of her friends. The laughter was loud and full of happiness.   
“Roll me over to her, would you be so kind.” When she saw me coming, her eyes went from burning with fire to ice cool.   
“Atets.” Father   
“Samantha, I am proud of you. And you mother of course.” She smiled a fake smile.  
“Please, atets, don’t call me Samantha. Sam is enough.”   
“Of course as you wish. Can I talk to you for a second?”   
“Yes, atets.” She followed me into a quiet corner.   
“I am sorry, that I wasn’t able to come earlier, but…”  
“Oh, just shut up, okay. You don’t show up my hole life, give us money and empty promises and then on my graduation day, when I get the best certificate in years, you show up, telling me that you are proud of me and so fucking sorry for not showing up my hole damn life.”  
“I know, your emotion might carry you away, but I had business to do and this business kept your mother alive and you on this school. So I think, that I have more power than you.” I cleared my throat, trying to wipe away ma harsh words. “This is your graduation present.” I pulled out a silver-gold Omega-watch I found in my favourite watch-shop. “I hope you like it, if you excuse me.” I smiled and went back to Wilma. Her sad smile showed me, that she saw our little fight in the corner.  
“Wilma, I have to go again, ok?”  
“Mycroft, you don’t think, you would be able to hide it, do you?” When I didn’t replied, she went on. “I hope your new boyfriend makes you happier than I did. Farewell.” And she rolled away.   
\--  
“Mycroft.” Greg stood there, sunlight on his grey hair, unsure how his boyfriend felt.   
“I am alright.” Mycroft’s voice usually had this strength, but now his words came out in a little creaky way.   
“I know what you’re going through and I want to help you. But you need to let me inside you castle.”   
“Oh Gregory. I am sorry, but…I don’t know what to do…”  
“I know that, Mycroft. And that’s why people have friends. To help through this kind of stuff. I don’t want to lose you in this. You are precious to me and also to Wilma. And we both know, that you’ve never been in such a situation. Sherlock is also in this situation, but he talks to John about it. And that’s what you also should do.” Greg’s hand slid over his face and whipped away the tears.   
“I want to go back.”   
“Okay, then let’s go.” The walk back was silent, but comforting. Wilma was on her way back to her seat when she catched Mycroft’s eye. She only smiled and turned her wheelchair around, facing the front. Mycroft took a deep breath and walked towards the microphone. Greg stayed at the end, following him with his eyes. When Mycroft was in front of all these people, who knew Sam ages better than him he steadied himself. He was at lest Mycroft Holmes.   
“Thank you all for coming. I know it might have been complicated for some of you, but I am grateful to see all the persons, Sam shared her time. To see the people she helped and who helped her. To see her friends and her teachers. I was only a short time in her live, so I don’t know much to tell you. There’s only one thing: I am proud to have a daughter like her. And will know, none of you will ever forget her, and I am also grateful for that.” When he walked back, he felt the looks at him and a murmur, which followed him all the way back to Gregory. He heard a chair rustling and someone picking up the microphone.   
“I think it’s time.” Everybody moved at once. Clothes rustling and low, hushed voices. The plain box which held her ash was in Sahar’s hands and she carried it towards a small spot near the wall. The small grave stone was made like one of the ancient Scottish ones all over the place. Only her first name was carved into it and except some runes. Sahar just set the box inside the hole and pushed with the help of some other girls the earth on top of it.   
“Shall she lie there in memory of her friends and family.” Slowly everyone went home, but Wilma, Sahar, Sherlock, John, Greg and Mycroft stayed, watching the sun slowly sink.  
“She never met Mummy and Daddy.” Sherlock sighed.  
“She did. Years ago. But they didn’t told you.” Sherlock didn’t moved.  
“Why?”  
“Because it would bother you needless.” Mycroft let a deep breath out. Sherlock inhaled the same time.   
“How about dinner?” Wilma brushed Mycroft hand gently.   
“Yeah. But let’s have steak. She loved steak.” Sahar gripped the handles of the wheelchair and rolled off. John and Sherlock followed, the taller man holding the doctors shoulders. Greg pecked a small kiss on Mycrofts cheek and left him after short hesitation. When he was sure he was alone, Mycroft kneeled down, touching the rough stone.  
“Samantha, I love you too.” Then he raised and followed the others, not turning around again.


End file.
